


Forbidden Fortress

by meyari



Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, Dystopia, Future Fic, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-06
Updated: 2009-12-06
Packaged: 2017-10-04 05:45:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 59,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meyari/pseuds/meyari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clexification of <em>The Hidden Fortress</em> by Akira Kurosawa, set in futurefic territory compared to canon.  Clark & Lex have an established relationship, Whitney is alive and well, Lana has NEVER been with Clark, Lionel is something very different from what he is in the series, it's highly SF—and that's all I'm telling you ahead of time because I don't want ruin any surprises! >3</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forbidden Fortress

"I hate that fucking asshole Luthor."

"You want your head blown off?" Whitney Fordman snapped, glaring at his fellow convicted 'criminal' Pete Ross. "I don't, so shut up, will you?"

"I still hate him," Pete grumbled, fingering the collar clamped tight around his neck. "It's fucking cold, we're stuck in the depths of the arctic searching for a myth, and we're gonna die out here."

"Oh, you're _cold_," Whitney drawled, rolling his eyes as he steered their crawler up a steep snow-covered hill. "I guess that's good enough reason to get us _blown up_!"

Pete flinched at the bellow, slumping further into his seat while rubbing his hands in a futile effort to get warm. He knew Whitney was right. The collars they both wore were bugged so that the prison base camp could monitor them at will. Of course, with upward of a million people convicted of 'crimes against humanity'—otherwise known as disagreeing with Lionel Luthor—they didn't monitor each collar all the time. Pete stayed quiet for a long while, as did Whitney, maybe for a whole three minutes.

"You're going off the grid," Pete warned, checking their path against the plan that they were supposed to follow.

"Yeah," Whitney said, snorting. "I know."

"Weren't you the one complaining about being blown up?" Pete snarled, getting twitchier as they strayed farther from the route they were supposed to follow.

The base camp had set up a geometric grid for the crawler teams to follow. The crawler was booby-trapped, just like their collars. If they diverged too much they'd be blown up. Given how many criminals there were in the system, a few dozen dead teams was nothing. Sending a few thousand teams out into the snowy waste was the only way to find the Fortress. It was invisible to every other method besides actually going out physically to find it; satellites, radar, plane over flights, none had worked. You had to be on the ground, or you wouldn't see it. Of course, Pete thought the thing was a myth, which was why no one found it. Whitney said he thought differently, but he sure didn't spend much time looking through the binoculars.

"Sit up and look outside, moron," Whitney snarled. "There's a big effing cliff in our way. It's go this way or die, and as I don't want to die, I'm going this way."

Pete glared at him before looking more carefully. Whit was right, of course. The jerk was always right, with just annoyed Pete worse. There was a cliff, a nice, steep, impassible cliff, which they'd fall right off of, and be smashed to bits at the base. He looked across the broad snow-swept valley ahead of them, refusing to see any beauty in the sparse landscape. It was almost like looking out over a valley filled with fog, just a few mountaintops peeking through the snow that blanketed everything. If he hadn't been forced to go out here, didn't have the collar strapped around his neck, wasn't stuck in a snow crawler with Whitney Fordman, he _might_ allow that the scene was beautiful, but only privately.

"Hah, here we go!" Whitney said, turning the cumbersome crawler down a still-steep slope. "Not going to die today after all."

"Thank god," Pete sighed, still looking over the valley.

He saw something glinting in the distance and stiffened. It looked like sunlight reflecting off of glass, not the familiar sparkle of sun on ice and snow. Pete had learned that sparkle over the last couple of months. He'd lasted a long time on these search teams, longer than most, but he knew that his life could end at any time. The light sparkled again, drawing Pete's eyes. No way.

"What?" Whitney asked as Pete grabbed the binoculars, peering into the distance towards the glint he'd seen.

"No fucking way," Pete breathed, staring through the lenses at something from another world.

It was far enough away that it looked like a small mound of crystal, barely big enough to be noticed in the midst of the frozen waste surrounding it. It blended in, the crystals white and blue to match the snow and ice around it. It was bizarre, so unlike anything Pete had ever seen that it made him catch his breath. He might refuse to grant the arctic any beauty, but that thing was gorgeous.

"_What?_" Whitney snapped, alternating between watching their path, and attempting to spear Pete with glances.

"We found it, dude!" Pete cried, grinning at him. "We found the fucking Fortress!"

"You're shitting me," Whitney said, jaw dropping open. They both gasped as the crawler teetered during his moment of inattention. Whitney wrestled it back under control, taking them to the base of the cliff, and back on their programmed path.

"No shit, dude," Pete said, beaming. "Switch with me. You'll see."

"Like hell I'm letting you drive, you speed freak," Whitney snorted, rolling his eyes. He stopped the crawler once they hit level ground, taking the binoculars from Pete. "Whoa. I think you're right."

"We're gonna be rich!" Pete exulted, pounding Whitney's arm. "Damn, we're gonna be rich, and powerful, and babes are gonna lay at our feet for this! Hell, Luthor himself is gonna reward us!"

"Yeah," Whitney breathed, grinning at him. "Call the base. Tell what we found!"

Pete scrambled for the radio, calling back to their base. His calls went unanswered, nothing but static over the radio waves. Pete snarled, adjusting the radio to try again. It didn't make any difference; he couldn't get anyone on the horn. He fought with the radio, Whitney fought with it, and they bickered, fought, and then gasped as a blast of snow swept over the crawler. Pete turned, staring back the way they'd come. There was a huge cloud bearing down on them, black and threatening. It was preceded by a wall of white; the blizzard that would swallow them shortly.

"Dude, we got a storm coming in," Pete said, feeling himself go pale. "We gotta get out of here!"

"There's no way we'll make it back to base," Whitney replied, nearly as white as the snow around them. "We're gonna die when we finally found what we've been looking for all this time."

They looked at each other, then across the valley at the Forbidden Fortress of Kal-El. Pete was sure that Whitney's creeped-out, terrified expression was mirrored on his own face. Neither of them wanted to go anywhere near the Fortress. Everyone knew the place was trapped, deadly to Earth life forms. Kal-El had been an alien after all, a freak from another world. He hadn't fought Lionel Luthor to save humanity. He'd fought to get his technology back from Luthor, and in the end it had killed him.

"I hate this," Pete whimpered as Whitney started the crawler, pointing the nose at the Fortress.

"You got any other ideas?" Whitney asked, voice shaking.

"No," Pete answered, swallowing hard. "We had it made, dude. We had it made, and now we're double-doomed. If the damned collars don't kill us, the Fortress will."

"Shut up and navigate, will you?" Whitney growled, kicking the crawler into its highest gear.

The stark beauty of the arctic wastes was nothing compared to the Fortress as it grew in front of them. It was crystalline perfection, as alien to Pete and Whitney as the frozen landscape around them. It grew, and grew, and grew, until it filled the whole world in front of them. The storm growing behind them was the only thing that could have forced them to go on. By the time they drove to the edge of the Fortress, the wind was howling around them, it was nearly dark as night, and Pete could barely see the Fortress a few feet in front of them.

"We gotta get inside!" Whitney yelled over the roar of the wind.

"Dude, it's all open!" Pete yelled back, waving an arm wildly while seeing his breath in front of his face. "It's not going to be any better!"

"We _will_ die here!" Whitney yelled, grabbing their backpacks of supplies. "We _might_ die in there. Move it!"

Pete groaned, grabbed his backpack, and opened the door of the crawler. He'd thought that the air inside of the crawler was the same temperature as the air outside, but the instant he cracked the door he understood just how wrong he'd been. Pete would have screamed, except that he'd learned in the last few months trawling through the arctic for the Fortress that if you opened your mouth in this cold, the air sucked all your heat right out of your body. He kept his mouth shut, tucked his head as deep inside of his coat as he could, and scrambled for the Fortress, Whitney's hand locked onto one shoulder.

The snow was piling up in drifts, building around them, and started caking them as they struggled towards the soaring crystals. It was literally blowing horizontal, like the world had been turned on its side. Pete whimpered through his nose, his eyes starting to freeze shut. They weren't going to make it. There was just no way they'd make it! They struggled into the outer layers of the Fortress, clambering up oddly spaced rises, and shuffling across platforms that were just the ends of shorter bits of crystal. All of a sudden, the wind stopped, the air warmed, and Pete could breathe. The sound of the storm's fury outside dimmed to the point that it was barely audible.

He cast a wild glance at Whitney, who looked like the Yeti, except no Yeti would look that freaked out. Pete opened his mouth to ask what the hell had happened, but he froze hearing voices echoing through the Fortress. Pete whimpered, biting his lip. No, please no! Not Kal-El, not that freaking alien. He was supposed to be dead, killed in Luthor's last attack. He couldn't still be alive, here, waiting for them, waiting to kill them!

Whitney shuddered, brushed the rapidly melting snow off of his face and coat. He held one gloved hand before his mouth in a shushing gesture before carefully sneaking into the Fortress towards the voices they could just hear, but couldn't understand. Pete bit his lip, waved his arms in frustration, and then carefully followed Whitney, wishing the man didn't have such a strong hero instinct. Damn the former Marine, anyway—Pete didn't want to go any further inside!

Whitney and Pete both froze once they got close enough to see who was making the noise. There was a bald guy in ratty, patched winter gear pulling crystals from some sort of control panel. He was helped by one of Luthor's special constructs: tall, burly, dark hair, and green eyes, rather blank-faced like all of them. How the bald guy had found or stolen one, Pete had no clue, but that was the only thing it could be. Pete had seen plenty of them in the camps before he'd been stupid enough to get volunteered for this mission. Every single one of them was stronger than a human, faster, unstoppable in a fight, and rumored to be sexy as hell in bed, not that Pete swung that way.

"Put those in the packs," the bald guy ordered the construct, obeyed instantly. "We have to hurry."

"Shit," Pete breathed, awed by the balls of the bald guy. He was stealing from Kal-El, the Superman. Granted Kal-El was supposed to be dead, but come on!

Both the bald guy and the constructs heads snapped up at Pete's quiet word of awe. He hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud. The bald guy whipped a gun out faster than Pete had ever seen anyone move before, training it on him and Whit before Pete could even blink. It was one of the new ones, the special ones, based on captured Kryptonian technology, all crystal and plastic, not good, old-fashioned metal shooting out hot lead.

"Down on the floor!" the bald guy yelled, his voice echoing through the Fortress. "Down, or I'll blow your heads off!"

"Easy!" Whitney cried, dropping to the floor while glaring at Pete. "W-we got trapped by the storm. We're not going to hurt you!"

"Shit," Pete whimpered, trembling as the bald guy strode over, took their backpacks, searched them for weapons (not that either Whitney or Pete had any), and then tossed their packs to the construct. "Dude, we're not gonna give you any trouble. I swear we won't fight you!"

The construct watched them, taking the packs, moving them over with the crystals it continued to pull from the console. It was silent, like every construct, watching their every move for an indication it should attack Pete and Whitney. Pete did his level best not to even _think_ disobedient thoughts. God only knew what secret abilities Luthor had encoded into the constructs fake DNA—it might actually be able to read Pete's mind. Once their bags had been taken, and the bald guy had checked them both out, he knelt between the two of them, blue eyes as cold as the ice and snow outside the Fortress.

"You've got that right," the bald guy said, pressing his gun to the back of Pete's head. "You'll do exactly as I tell you, or those collars won't have a chance to blow your heads off. I'll do it first. On your feet."

Pete and Whitney scrambled to their feet, letting the bald guy herd them into a smaller area, another room apparently. The bald guy glared at them, touched something on the wall outside their room, and a crystal slid up, cutting them off from the outside world.

"No!" Pete yelled, pounding on the 'door' without making it so much as quiver. "Damn it! Don't just leave us here!"

"Triple-doomed," Whitney moaned, collapsing against the far wall. "We're never going to see home, Pete. I'm never going to see Lana again. You're never going to see your family. Kansas is history for us. We're going to die in this god-forsaken Fortress in the middle of the fucking arctic."

"We should have tried to get back to base," Pete moaned, sliding down the door to stare at Whitney, utterly disheartened.

"Sure, through a blizzard that would block the GPS, when the radio was out, and we were a full two days away from base," Whitney drawled, eyes shut. "Great idea."

Pete wanted to snarl something back at Whitney, but he truly didn't see the point. They were sealed in, trapped. Either the bald guy would come back to free them, or they'd die in here, maybe eating each other's corpses to survive a little longer. God hated him, Pete decided. His life was a joke, he'd never have anything good, beautiful, or wonderful in his life, and he'd die here with Whitney instead of some hot babe.

"God hates me," Pete announced.

"Hate him back," Whitney sighed. "Works for me."

"You're sick."

"You're gorgeous. We should get one last fuck before he kills us."

"Touch me, and I'll kill you myself, you perv!"

They glared at each other, both tensing for one of their frequent battles. They eyed each other for a long moment before relaxing against their respective walls. What else could they do besides wait for the bald guy or death, whichever came first?

+++++

"What are we going to do with them, Lex?" Clark asked once Lex had come back from the storage room. "We can't leave them here to die when the Fortress collapses."

"I know," Lex sighed, helping Clark finish pulling the crystals out of the control panel. "I know, Clark. We'll have to take them back to Smallville with us, but we don't dare let them know who we are, either of us. I think we should drop them with the first police we see. They're nothing but common criminals. They'll betray us at the first chance."

"Are you sure?" Clark asked, biting his lip while hitting Lex with the puppy eyes that had doomed him so long ago.

"I'm sure, love," Lex said, petting his cheek, kissing him gently. "Trust me to know people better than you do. They're desperate, have bombed collars around their necks, and will do anything to get them off so they can survive. Humans do crazy things when their lives are on their line, almost as crazy as the things they do when they're in love."

They shared a tender look. As he went back to work on the task at hand, Lex's mind wandered back into the past. Fortunately, Jor-El had given them everything they needed to know before shutting down for the transfer. They'd be able to move the fortress to a new location with the crystals they were taking, one more central to the struggle against Lex's father.

_Fire raining down from the sky, arcing straight towards Lex…a tiny hand gently touching his cheek as he shivered, tiredly trying to study the red-haired woman holding the little boy, the rough farmer behind her, so out of place in his father's limo, as out of place as the little spaceship his father had manhandled into the trunk of the limo with the driver's help…trying to keep from screaming as his father introduced Lex to the red-haired Model A Series Construct, a man with Lex's vanished red hair, Lex's eyes, Lex's face, just aged past Lex's 13-year-old pudginess…greeting the B-89 Construct at the door to the manor on a trip home from Excelsior at 16, not surprised at the long brown hair, brown eyes and nose that exactly matched his father's. The A Series had failed just like Lex had failed his father, so of course he'd model the B Series on himself…throwing up in an alley, escaped from his keepers, escaped from his father's expectations, escaped from everything except the emptiness he felt, heir apparent to the Ruler of the World, Lionel Luthor. Lex heaved, unable to block the horror of his father's actions out even with massive drink, drugs and mind-blowing sex…heart nearly stopping as he arced off the bridge, young man flying from Lex's car striking him…keeping silent as Genevieve moved into the mansion with her perfect son Jason, Lionel's new favorite. He'd learned he could protest the many lovers that cycled through his father's life, but Genevieve was different, Lionel's ally, his fiancé, the one who had given him the keys to unlocking Kryptonian technology years ago. Soon she'd find the Kryptonian who'd come in the ship that had given his father the keys to rule the world. Soon she'd find the Elements of Power, and his father would be immortal, ruling the world forever…_

"Lex," Clark said, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder and snapping him out of his spiraling memories, "Where did you go?"

"Sorry, just thinking about how I met you the third time," Lex said, grinning ruefully.

"I prefer our second meeting," Clark said with a laugh. "You were so shocked when I refused all rewards, and just wanted a blanket to wrap up in."

"Hope and Mercy were twice as shocked," Lex chuckled, shaking his head. "I miss them. We need to get going. The longer we stay here the more chance there is that someone else will find the Fortress."

"There's a blizzard out there," Clark said, rolling his eyes. "It will be OK overnight. We need to decide what to do about Pete and Whitney, Lex. I won't leave them. We need to get them to Gotham with us. They don't deserve to be prisoners."

"You knew them?" Lex said, surprised yet not surprised. Clark continually surprised Lex with the people he knew. For a person who had been entirely home schooled, and kept away from people, he seemed to know almost everyone in a three county range around his parent's quiet farm, and that was before he started saving people as Kal-El / Superman. His 'friends' covered the globe lately.

"They're from Smallville," Clark said. "Pete's father was Dad's best friend until your dad bought the old creamed corn plant. I saw him from a distance my whole life, but Mom and Dad kept me away from everyone so I never was his friend. Whitney is Lana's lover."

"Ah, your crush's One True Love," Lex said sarcastically. He truly never understood the fascination with Lana that so many people had, his father included. "What was she, second for him? Third? Thirty-ninth?"

"He's not that bad," Clark chuckled, poking Lex gently. "Sure, he sleeps around, but he really loves Lana. She really loves him, too. He was a marine, one of the good guys. He only got arrested because he fought against Lionel's policies on relocating people out of their homes and into camps when a Revolutionary cell was found in the town. Neither Pete nor Whitney is a bad person, Lex. We can't leave them here to die, and I won't send them back to the prison camps. They'll be killed."

Lex sighed, rubbing his forehead. It was going to complicate thing enormously to have to haul the pair along with them, but maybe it could work. Clark had a way of making things work when any rational person would say that it was impossible. Of course, that was before Clark had been so badly wounded by one of Lionel's new weapons that he'd nearly died, lost the ability to fly, lost most of his invulnerability, and lost most of his powers while his body healed. According to Clark, he was at almost the same level as when he'd been fifteen or sixteen. His hearing was just as strong as normal, thank goodness, letting him relay what Bruce and the others were doing in Gotham to fight Lionel. Unfortunately, they had no way to communicate back to Bruce that they were okay.

"They think I'm a construct," Clark said, looking towards the storage room, "and that you're some crazy scavenger with more guts than brains. We could play off of that. I can pretend to be a construct fairly easily since they're based on my genetics."

"Can you keep your mouth shut?" Lex asked, raising an eyebrow at Clark. He smirked at Clark's flinch. "That'll be the key. All the constructs have their vocal cords cut, so we'd need to fake a scar on your neck, the brain surgery scars, and then give you an ID tattoo on your left hand. It will only work if you can stay silent, Clark. If you can't, then we shouldn't even try that plan."

"If it means saving their lives," Clark said firmly, "then I can stay silent for the time it takes to get back to Gotham with the crystals."

Lex nodded, proud of his lover, his alien, the person who'd saved him from death, but more importantly saved him from his father's megalomania and Lex's despair. They set to work making Clark look like a construct. There were Kryptonian surgical instruments in the Fortress that looked like small crystals to Lex. Clark set them up to create fake scars, and then let Lex use them. Lex made the scar over Clark's Adam's apple that would make everyone believe he couldn't talk. He added the brain surgery scars over Clark's left temple, the base of his skull and another below his right ear. Lex's hands shook ever so slightly as he worked. Clark adjusted the tool, setting it to make a tattoo to match whatever Lex decreed.

"What should it say?" Clark asked, looking at Lex.

"You're going to be C Series, of course, since that's the series that's based on you," Lex said, thinking furiously. "You have to be a later batch, after F, because A through F weren't able to be as independent as you are. Too much of their brains were excised. The best choice would be the K batch."

"CK-what?"

"Probably around the 9000's," Lex said, pulling out his PDA and checking the records he had stored on it. "They were an experimental run, from 8997 to 9342. They turned out to be too independent, too willful. The hostile ones were destroyed, but most of them were scrapped, sold to the public. Most of those ended up in the sex trade. Let's go with 9311. My records show he was scrapped through sale, not destroyed outright, but dropped off the records shortly after that."

"CK-9311 it is," Clark said, giving the tool back to Lex with a queasy look. "How many of me are out there, Lex?"

Lex shuddered. The last time he'd checked (before coming to the Fortress the last time), there had been something like 85,000 constructs created in Clark's image, in Series number CA through CN. Certainly not all of them were still alive, but probably 85% of them were. They were so durable as to be nearly indestructible when properly cared for. Lex had seen so many constructs before he'd fled his father's evil. He knew what had been done to them during the brutal training, knew exactly how their bodies and brains were modified so that they'd be nearly indestructible, but still controllable soldiers for his father's armies, police forces and prison camps. The process of turning the gentle, loving cloned children of Clark's DNA into brutal killers and complaint sex slaves frequently made Lex wake up screaming.

"They're not you, Clark," Lex said, carefully running the tool over the back of Clark's left hand. A tattoo showing CK-9311 appeared, with a proper barcode underneath it. "They may have half of your genetics, but they were never exact clones of you. Dad always mixes other DNA in, in an effort to make them more controllable."

"So me and what?" Clark asked, running a finger over the new tattoo.

"Dogs," Lex said shortly, hating to talk about it. "Some have cat. A few have sheep or bird mixed in. Never human DNA, because that would be 'illegal'."

Lex rolled his eyes. The A and B series constructs had all been kept internally. There had only been about 50 clones of Lex running around. Lionel made around 600 clones of himself before he got Clark's blood from somewhere. The fact that his father had condemned all the A and B series clones to destruction as soon as the CA Series proved itself to be superior was just one of the reasons that Lex refused to ever allow the man behind his back. He knew perfectly well Lionel would terminate his existence with even less thought than he'd killed Lex's other selves.

"That's just weird," Clark said, shuddering. "So now what?"

"Dinner," Lex said, laughing at Clark's delighted grin. "I'm starving, and if I'm starving, you have to be about to fall over with hunger."

They headed into the 'kitchen' area, which Lex would never think of as a kitchen. The food was created automatically out of an alcove, with no preparation necessary: good food supply, but not a kitchen in Lex's mind. A kitchen needed a stove, a fridge, counters, a sink, maybe a nice big table to settle at while you ate pie and drank coffee. This place was just a food dispensary to Lex.

"The pie still isn't as good as your mom's," Lex grumped as he took his tray from Clark.

"It tastes just the same," Clark laughed at Lex.

"Does not," Lex said, settling at the crystal table Jor-El had created for them. "Your mom didn't make it or serve it, so it can't taste the same."

"Stubborn," Clark said, shaking his head in amusement. "I should make food for Pete and Whitney."

"After you eat your fill," Lex said, stopping Clark in mid-step. "You're still healing, Clark. I won't have you pushing yourself until you're better. Sit down. I want all of that food gone, then a second plate of it in you before you go feed your friends."

Clark blushed, smiling shyly at Lex through his lashes. They started eating, Clark relaying the things he heard from outside, as well as what Pete and Whitney were doing. Apparently the two spent a lot of time bickering, which made Lex groan. Just what he needed to do, baby-sit two people who weren't able to behave like grownups across half the damned countryside.

"This is going to be a pleasure," Lex drawled, watching Clark demolish his second plate of food. "They sound like wonderful travel mates."

"Well, they're terrified of you." Clark shrugged. "So I think they'll shut up and behave when you snap at them."

"For what?" Lex asked rhetorically. "Five minutes? Ten?"

"No, I think it will be more like two or three minutes actually," Clark said objectively. "They don't seem able to stop sniping at each other."

"Lovely," Lex groaned, chin slumping to his chest.

"Can I make them food now?" Clark asked, running a warm hand over Lex's scalp.

"Sure, knock yourself out," Lex said, smiling at him gratefully. He chuckled into Clark's kiss, squeezing his hand. Lex followed Clark as he delivered the food, hovering behind him as Clark opened the door to the storage room, stepping inside with the tray of food.

"Crap!" Pete gasped, starting to his feet as the door slid open. "Shit, scared the hell out me, man."

Whitney climbed to his feet a lot more slowly, watching Clark as if looking for an opening to attack him. He saw Lex glowering behind Clark's back, and conspicuously relaxed with fear in his eyes. Clark gently set the tray of food on the floor, nodding to Pete and Clark. Pete saw the food, and his eyes lit up as he grinned. He knelt carefully sliding the tray away from Clark. Clark stepped back out of the room, pressing the lock on the door. He pressed another spot, and the wall went clear, letting them see what Pete and Whitney did. It was like a one-way mirror, letting them see and hear what was in the room, while the occupants couldn't see or hear what happened outside.

"Dude, this is great!" Pete said, all but cramming the food into his mouth. He was doing his best to inhale the food, acting like he hadn't eaten in weeks. Lex kind of wondered how long it had been since he'd had a good meal. Both Pete and Whitney looked far too thin for their own good.

"Why would they feed us?" Whitney asked, watching Pete carefully as he continued to gorge himself.

"Wha'?" Pete asked, swallowing the huge bite of food in his mouth. "Ya think it's poisoned or something?"

"Maybe," Whitney said, smirking at Pete's splutter and glare. "You feeling okay?"

"Fine," Pete growled at him. "If you don't want it, I'll just eat yours too."

"Hands off!" Whitney snarled.

Pete reached for Whitney's plate of food, prompting Whit to growl, glare at Pete, and dive in to rescue it. Whitney retreated to the far side of the room, holding his plate of food as though he expected Pete to rush him for it. Pete did the same, continuing to eat his food as fast as he could. They glared at each other, making Clark sigh sadly. Lex groaned, his face in his hands.

"This is what you want to haul with us?" Lex asked Clark, his heart in his eyes. "This pair of bickering, suspicious fools?"

"Yeah," Clark said with a tired sigh. "It's going to suck, isn't it?"

"We're going to have to keep them busy," Lex said, walking away from the storeroom. He headed back towards their backpacks of crystals. "I have no idea how, but we have to keep them so busy and loaded down that they won't have the energy to think, fight, or get into mischief."

Clark followed him, a tall, dark, comforting shadow. The Fortress felt dead without Jor-El's spirit animating it. Lex had hated Jor-El at first. The demands the man had made of Clark, immediately after they'd managed the impossible by creating the Fortress, had given him a very bad impression of Clark's biological father. However, the longer Lex interacted with Jor-El, the more he'd done, the more time he'd spent here, the more Lex realized that it was pure love that prompted Jor-El's demands of Clark. He was trying desperately to prepare his only son to deal with the disaster Earth had become after Lionel stole Clark's spaceship, using its technology to take over the world.

"Well," Clark said thoughtfully as they reached the control panel, "they have backpacks. We could always cannibalize more of the controls than we planned. Load their backpacks up, and tell them that each crystal was worth its weight in gold."

"Not a bad plan," Lex said equally thoughtfully. "We certainly have plenty of crystals to choose from. The trick will be keeping them from running off with them the instant my back is turned."

"Put me in charge of guarding them," Clark said with a grin. "They're afraid of what I can do, so that should give them pause, at least."

"All right." Lex nodded slowly. "We'll try it, but if they cause too much trouble for us, we're dropping them with the nearest prison camp as escapees. I'll be warning them of that, too, just to make sure they know the cost of disobedience."

Clark chuckled, pulling Lex into his arms to kiss him tenderly. They both knew the threat was an idle one. Having made the decision, Lex would move heaven and earth to get Whitney and Pete to their destination intact. That was just the sort of person he was. Clark knew it, and had said many times that it was part of why he'd fallen in love with Lex, all those years ago.

"Thank you, love," Clark whispered.

"You're welcome," Lex said, smiling at him, "but you know that this is all your fault, don't you?"

"Of course!" Clark's green eyes sparkled at the familiar line. "As your construct, I think I'm in need of some loyalty reinforcement, the sort that involves bed, lube, the repeatedly calling 'oh god!'"

Lex burst out laughing, kissing Clark deeply.

"I think we can arrange that," Lex said. "March, CK-9311. Bedroom, now!"

"Yes, sir!"

+++++

Clark listened to Lex's breathing as he lay curled against Clark's chest. The sound of Pete and Whitney trying to get comfortable in their storeroom bothered him. The sounds of the horrors that Lionel Luthor was inflicting on the world were worse. He truly wished that Lionel's latest super weapon had taken his hearing away with all his other powers. It was so hard to hear all the people in need, and to be unable to do anything to help them.

His body hurt a lot more than Clark was willing to admit to Lex. Every breath was still agony, as his ribs hadn't quite healed properly. His spine was prone to cramping every time he twisted or bent without due care. His legs and arms felt like lead. His body was a mess; no matter that he looked okay on the outside, his insides were healing incredibly slowly. How Lionel had managed to create a weapon that blasted Kryptonite radiation straight through him, Clark didn't know, but he was grateful he'd managed to make it to Smallville and the Kawatche Caves before his powers gave out. He was far more grateful that Lex had been at the Fortress working with Jor-El. Clark might have died otherwise.

He hadn't, of course. Jor-El and Lex had gotten him healed to the best of their abilities, though time was the only true cure for what had happened to Clark. It would take weeks for his body to fully heal, and then possibly months for him to recharge fully. It didn't matter, though. They had to get back to Gotham, back to the Resistance. Lionel couldn't be allowed to continue his destruction of the Earth.

*Damn it, I wish we had stayed in the crawler,* Pete grumbled, shifting position for the millionth time.

Clark sighed, easing out from under Lex. He pulled on his clothes, going to the packs that they'd taken from Pete and Whitney. There were sleeping bags, so Clark grabbed them, going to the storeroom. Pete and Whit both stared as Clark came in, silently laying down the bags to pick up the tray with its empty dishes. Pete had eaten all of his food, but Whitney had hoarded some of his. Clark gave him a questioning look, eyeing the bowl with its tidbits of food.

"Show me your number!" Pete suddenly declared, making Clark turn to stare at him.

Pete wasn't half as confident as he sounded. He was pale and shaking as Clark continued to stare at him. After almost a full minute—which reduced Pete to tremors and visible sweating—Clark balanced the tray on his right hand, holding his left hand out to Pete so that he could see the fake tattoo.

"No," Pete moaned, looking almost ill. "Not a CK! Anything but a fucking CK model!"

Clark gave him a stern look for the profanity, making Pete flinch. Whitney looked mystified as he ate his final bites of food, giving Clark the bowl. Clark nodded to them, and headed out of the storeroom. Clark triggered the monitor, letting him listen to their conversation. Lex appeared, yawning and naked from the waist up as the door closed.

"What?" Whitney demanded from Pete, taking his sleeping bag and starting to roll it out.

"It's a fucking CK model, Whit," Pete groaned.

"That means precisely dick to me, Pete," Whitney said, rolling his eyes. "Translate it for the dumb marine, will you?"

"The series of constructs that were scrapped for being too unreliable, too unpredictable?" Pete said, apparently horrified that Whitney didn't know about it. "You have to know! It was all over the news. Some of them went nuts and killed people for no fucking reason. They scrapped all 10,000 of them, dude. It was huge!"

Whitney went pale, hands freezing in their work with the sleeping bag. Lex chuckled, smirking at their dismay as he hugged Clark. Pete looked like he wanted to cry.

"No shit?" Whitney asked, plopping down on his bag. "He's one of the Frankenstein constructs?"

"No shit, dude," Pete said, grabbing his bag and rolling it out. "We're stuck with a crazy ass scavenger who could sell his balls by the pound, and a crazy ass construct that should have been destroyed years ago."

"You sure you don't want one last fuck?" Whitney asked, growling at Pete's raised fists. "Hey, if you know you're going to die, does it matter who the last fuck is with?"

"Yes!"

Lex laughed quietly at the two of them, shutting off the monitor. Clark blushed at Whitney's words. It didn't matter that he and Lex had been lovers for over fifteen years now. It didn't matter that he was miles away from being innocent, being nearly 33 (despite looking to be in his early 20's). He still blushed like a 16-year-old virgin when he heard things like that. Of course, that only helped in the disguise, as the constructs did the same thing. It was part of why they were so popular in the sex trade, along with their disposability.

"I guess your part of the ruse is set up," Lex smirked.

"True, but we don't have a name for you yet," Clark said, rubbing his hot cheeks.

"They shall call me Master or Sir," Lex declared dramatically, then snorted, rolling his eyes. "Does it matter what they call me? They're going to be too busy for anything but complaining if I have my way."

"It will matter at the first security checkpoint we have to cross," Clark pointed out. "Better to have it all straight before we leave. Alex?"

"Sure, let's use my evil half's name," Lex said, shuddering. "No way."

"Joseph?"

"No. Wouldn't answer to it. I know myself well enough to know that."

They headed back to the kitchen, depositing the tray in the recycle slot. It melted, disappearing into the crystal. Clark always appreciated not having to do dishes. Lex's endless complaints about it amused Clark. Why anyone would object to not having to scrub pots and pants, Clark didn't know. Clark started making supplies for their trip, things that would keep during their trek. He wanted them to have enough for at least a couple of weeks, but freeze dried food in tight little packages was going to get old quickly. Pity that was all that Pete and Whitney would believe.

"AJ?" Clark proposed, knowing the answer before he said it. Lex hated his initials.

"Not a snowball's chance in the fiery pits of hell!" Lex growled, glaring at Clark who grinned. Lex thought, looking off into the distance. "Zander."

"That one I like!" Clark said, delighted. "Let's go with it. You're Zander, and I'm CK."

"Works," Lex said, taking Clark's hand. "Now come back to bed. That can wait until morning. We both need our rest. Things are going to be very difficult over the next few weeks."

"All right," Clark said, letting Lex pull him away. He knew he wouldn't sleep. He'd slept so much during the last couple of weeks that his body simply wouldn't let him, but he did need to lie down to rest for his body to heal. Besides, he loved cuddling Lex while he slept. The man was positively snuggly while he slept, something he'd never do while awake.

+++++

Jason studied Metropolis' battered skyline while listening to A-57 pant for breath behind him. It would be better if it were the real Alexander Luthor being slowly tormented to death, but having his double, a construct based exactly off of his DNA was an acceptable substitute until the leader of the Rebellion could be captured. The little device strapped to the construct's body crackled quietly as it ate its way into the construct's flesh, causing the voiceless creature agony that it could never convey, no matter how it shuddered, struggled, and panted. Jason considered having the next one made with its vocal cords intact, just so he could hear it scream as it died.

"Playing?" Lionel asked, his voice light and amused as he came into Jason's office.

"Testing," Jason replied, turning to smile at his stepfather, leader, and ruler of the world. "I want to know what effect these devices will have on Lex before I try them in the field. They've been very effective on other mutants like him, but his healing is quite unique."

"Pity the constructs can't perfectly mimic his mutation," Lionel said, running a gentle hand over the close cropped red hair on the construct's head. "I'd love to add it to my collection of genetic traits."

Jason had long since lost any sense of horror at Lionel's complete lack of humanity. His mother's upbringing, the spells she'd cast on him, and the things that Lionel had done to 'improve' Jason once he'd joined Lionel's family had all wiped out his capacity for fear. He knew objectively that Lionel was a monster, that what he'd done to humanity was worse than anything Hitler had ever dreamed off. He knew objectively that was Jason did was just as bad or worse, but it simply didn't matter. He did what he had to do, what he enjoyed doing, and left it at that.

"Was there something you needed, sir?" Jason asked, watching dispassionately as Lionel turned the device up, making the construct exhale in a long, soundless scream of agony.

"Hmm?" Lionel asked, focused on the construct's twitching. He didn't turn to Jason until the construct collapsed, passed out or possibly dead. "Yes, there was. We got a garbled message from one of the Fortress search teams. They seemed to say that they'd found the Fortress, but a storm was coming in, breaking up their signal. The GPS on their crawler has stayed steady, pinpointing a location. I want you to take a team, and fly out there. If it is the Fortress, we need to confirm it as soon as possible. I don't expect that the storm will delay one of our new flyers, so I want you in there right away."

"Yes, sir," Jason said, not quite saluting while snapping to attention. "Should I have them take the construct away?"

"Not yet," Lionel said, smiling at the construct in a way that should have made Jason's innards crawl, if he'd still had the capacity to feel that level of horror. "I'll take care of it."

"Yes, sir," Jason said, taking his phone and jacket.

He left before Lionel got started with the construct. He might have traded most of his humanity for power, but some things even he didn't wish to witness. Lionel was left behind as Jason left his steely tower, striding out into the grim realities of a world at war. He remembered Metropolis as being a shining city when he'd just graduated from high school. It didn't shine anymore. The skyscrapers' glass had been replaced with cement and steel, or destroyed outright in attacks. The population lived in strictly controlled camps, traveled in heavily monitored subway systems, and did what their ruler told them to. Military transports, dark haired constructs, and the occasional animal scurrying to get out of sight were all that populated streets that had been once been open and lively. It was a necessary evil, inevitable until the world submitted fully to Lionel's rule.

"I'm going to the arctic," Jason called to his second in command, waving for him to bring his latest batch of construct soldiers. "We may have a lead on the Fortress. Arm them, get a Flyer ready, and pack the heaviest winter clothing you can get for me. I need to see Mother before I go. I'll meet you at the port."

"Yes, Sir!" Van McNulty saluted smartly, more than happy to get back to hunting rebels, freaks and Superman, his personal least-favorite person.

Jason found Genevieve in her private garden at Lionel's well-protected mansion. It never surprised him anymore how well preserved she was. She'd been alive since the 1600's, quietly working to find the means to ultimate power. Her magic, knowledge, and sheer drive had ensured that she would survive and thrive when everyone else died around her. She'd had her ultimate goal in her grasp, only to have Lex steal it from her at the last second. Jason intended to make Lex pay for stealing his mother's dream; he'd pay in the most direct way possible.

"Mother, we may have found Kal-El's Fortress," Jason said, waving her attendants away. He knelt by her side, taking her limp hand in his, careful of the needles and tubes that sustained her life. Her eyes were unrelieved white, staring out at the world without any comprehension. He knew it was Lex's fault that she'd been reduced to this, the result of his theft of the Crystal of Knowledge. "Once we have the Fortress, I know we'll find a way to help you. I'll be back as soon as I can."

He always expected a response, and was always furious when he didn't get it, but no matter how he searched her face and white eyes, she never betrayed the slightest sign that she heard him. Jason fought his anger, jaw working, until he knew that he could get up to walk out without breaking something or revealing his emotion to the others. Once he had control of himself again, he kissed her cheek, resting his forehead against hers.

"I love you, Mother," Jason whispered to her. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

He managed to keep his face impassive as he stormed back out of the mansion, but knew that the set of his shoulders, his fisted hands, and the loud impact of his heels against the marble floors betrayed him to anyone watching. Fortunately, they were all constructs, so it didn't matter. By the time he made it to the port to rejoin McNulty and his team, he'd gotten his emotions under control.

"We hunting or scavenging?" McNulty asked as Jason strapped in.

"Both," Jason told him. "Scavenging the Fortress, and hopefully hunting Lex down at last."

"Excellent," McNulty said, his face twisting in an evil grin. "Do I get to kill him if I see him?"

"No," Jason snapped, glaring at McNulty who flinched. "Lex is mine. His companions are yours to do with as you wish, but Lex's ass is mine."

+++++

Whitney slept for shit, starting awake every time Pete rolled over, or muttered something in his sleep. All flirting aside, Whitney was kind of frightened of Pete. Not that frightened, as he was a lot shorter than Whit, and had never been trained in martial arts, but the things that Pete was supposed to have done to get convicted were a hell of a lot worse than Whitney's stubborn attempts to keep the people back home from being kicked out of their homes. Besides, the guy was supposed to have been involved in the creation and training of the constructs. Everyone knew that the people involved with that were monsters. When morning came, the CK construct arrived, bearing another tray of food. Whitney was surprised, as he'd expected their last meal to literally be their last, or that they'd have to wait at least another full day for more.

"Eat quick," the bald scavenger snapped at them. "We don't have much time before we have to get out of here."

"We're going with you?" Whitney asked, his stomach clenching at the thought. He'd been praying to be allowed to get back in the crawler, and leave without the crazies.

"It's that or die in the collapse of the Fortress," the scavenger said, eyes like ice. "It's dying around us."

Pete took his food, wolfing it down, eating so fast that Whit was surprised he could breath. The way Pete watched the CK made Whit really nervous. Whitney had worked with the constructs while he'd been in the military. They were able independently follow complicated orders, incredibly hard to kill, could carry huge loads, and were completely compliant. He'd never encountered one that got out of line. He'd never seen one disobey an order, even when the order meant that the construct was going to die hideously. He viewed them as organic robots, all power with no emotion. The way Pete was acting was making him seriously question that assumption.

"Eat," the scavenger snarled, making Whitney flinch.

"You have a name?" Whitney asked, eating. He didn't eat as quickly as Pete, but he still hurried to finish the food. The way the CK was watching him was making him nervous. He'd never seen that much thought or emotion in one of the construct's eyes before. Maybe Pete was right about the thing.

"You can call me Sir," the scavenger drawled, smirking at Whitney's glare. "Zander."

"Zander what?" Pete asked, passing his plate back to the CK. Whit could see that his hand was shaking slightly.

"Just Zander."

Zander's eyes were colder than the blizzard outside the Fortress, making Whitney shut up. He finished his food as fast as he could. The CK took their plates, disappearing into the Fortress. Zander had them roll up their sleeping bags, leaving them behind. He was almost visibly vibrating with impatience. Whitney really wanted to study him, but the man was so threatening that he barely dared look in his direction.

"Come on," Zander ordered, his hand on his crystal-and-plastic gun.

"W-where are we going, dude?" Pete asked, looking anywhere but at Zander.

"You stink," Zander said flatly. "While there's still power, you're bathing. Then you're helping us scavenge more crystals from the Fortress."

"You're going to give us a bath?" Whitney asked, unable to keep the shock from his voice as he stared at Zander. "Are you serious?"

"You stink," Zander repeated, fondling the gun. "Hands on your heads where I can see them. Move it!"

Whitney blushed brightly, as did Pete though it showed less on his face. It was one of their frequent complaints about each other, but Whitney hadn't thought that he'd gotten quite that gamey. They'd been locked together in the crawler for so long that they'd mostly gotten used to how they smelled. The shower was apparently in another part of the Fortress, letting them rubberneck as they were marched there. Pete openly stared around them. Whitney kept looking for ways to escape, but couldn't find any. He could see the storm still raging outside. He knew he couldn't outrun the CK, and he was sure that Zander would gladly put holes right through him if he tried it.

The Fortress didn't seem the same as yesterday. When they'd first sighted it, it had been shining white and blue, a thing of beauty. It was still partially lit from within, but most areas had gone dim. Some areas were completely dark. In some areas it looked like the crystal itself was falling apart. Whitney frowned, his fingers flexing nervously on his head. Maybe Zander had really meant it when he said that the Fortress was dying around them. They stopped in an area where the Fortress was still well-lit, still living.

"In," Zander snapped, his chin jerking at an alcove that didn't look much bigger than a coffin.

"Uh, in there?" Pete asked, eyes wide.

"Stand in that alcove," Zander snarled, making both Pete and Whitney flinch.

Pete stepped into it, and gasped as light washed over his body. He kept his hands over his head, but it looked like he was trying to hold his head on, not like he was being obedient to their captor's demands. The light faded, and he stepped out. Whitney swallowed hard. Pete was perfectly clean, his clothes were clean, but he looked like he was about to piss himself. Zander's look was enough to get Whitney into the alcove, letting him find out for himself why Pete had reacted that way.

It felt like having ten million tiny fingers plucking at every inch of his body. At first he kept his mouth shut, but he could feel the invisible fingers plucking at his teeth and inside his nose, making him gasp. The instant he opened his mouth, his teeth felt better, perfectly clean, and the pressure in his nose went away. The light faded, and Whitney stumbled out of the alcove, shaking.

"Better," Zander allowed, snorting at them. "Toilet's over there. Use it."

The 'toilet' was no better than the 'shower;' Whitney resolved to never think of it again. Billions of tiny fingers should not go those places! He was still shaking as they were marched back to what Whitney thought was where they'd first seen Zander and the CK. That whole area was going dark, and the CK was busily pulling crystals out of the consoles, laying them out in a precise, presumably logical pattern.

"Do you have any idea what those things do?" Pete asked, making Whitney silently bless the man for his inability to keep his mouth shut. That was exactly what he'd been wondering, but was afraid to ask.

"Doesn't matter," Zander said. "With you two, we're going to be able to get enough of these out of here to sell them to both sides. Every single one of them is worth more than its weight in gold, because every one of them is an alien tool that both sides will kill for."

"K-kill for?" Pete asked, voice shaking.

"Yes, kill for, and I'll kill the both of you if you try to run off with my profit," Zander growled, pulling his gun. He shoved the gun under Pete's chin, pushing his head back a little. "You behave yourself, haul the crystals, and you'll get your fair share. You try to run out on me, betray me, and so help me; Hell is going to be a welcome relief from what I do to you. Am I clear?"

Pete nodded desperately, quivering as he tried to ease away from the gun under his chin without being obvious about it. Zander turned to Whitney. Whit was sure he could see the razor's edge of insanity in Zander's eyes. Whit's knees did the shaking thing that they hadn't done since his conviction. The last time they'd done that before his conviction was when he'd been nearly killed behind enemy lines. Death was looking him in the face, considering how to take him, and Whitney knew it.

"Sir, yes sir!" Whit said, completely astonished that his voice came out steady given how hard the rest of him was shaking. Basic training apparently hadn't left him yet. He wasn't sure if he should send his sergeant a long-overdue blessing or heart-felt curse.

"Good," Zander said, waving them towards the CK with his gun. "CK, don't let them escape. Load their backpacks, watch over them, and make sure they don't talk to strangers."

The CK came over with backpacks, making sure they were properly fitted on both Pete and Whitney. Up close, Whitney could see that it had one hell of a lot more going on behind its eyes than the CM's and CN's he'd dealt with before. There was a person inside those eyes, and it was almost more frightening to see someone looking back at him than to face Zander's insanity and his gun. Constructs shouldn't be that aware! Its hands were competent, warm and very firm as it made sure the backpacks fitted properly. There were two backpacks already loaded off to the side, one normal human size and the other huge, carrying at least three times the load they were. Whitney groaned as the weight in his pack increased to the point that he thought his legs were going to give out. This was like being back in basic training. Zander would make an excellent drill sergeant, because while he wasn't loud enough, he was certainly crazy enough for the job. Pete bitched as soon as the CK started loading his backpack. Zander glowered, shutting Pete up for the moment. Once they'd been loaded with all the crystals that the CK had pulled out, Zander grabbed his pack, and the CK grabbed its pack. The CK's pack had sleeping bags for all four of them strapped to it.

"We're not going to fit in the crawler with these," Pete warned hesitantly.

"Doesn't matter," Zander said, taking out a small device. He pressed a button on it, and an explosion blasted through the fortress. "We're not using your way in. We're using mine."

"Holy fucking shit!" Pete breathed, swallowing hard. "You blew it up! You fucking blew it up!"

"Move," Zander growled, waving his gun at them both.

The CK went first, leading the way to a different part of the Fortress. He stopped in front of an apparently normal piece of crystalline wall. The only way it differed was that it had visible markings on it, and nothing else that Whitney had seen did. Zander smiled grimly, running his fingers over a blue spot on the wall. Whit gulped and Pete started cursing as the CK grabbed their arms. Zander reached back to touch the CK's chest, then slid his fingers to another spot on the wall, one that looked like an octagon surrounded by markings of some sort.

Light enveloped them all. Whitney heard his voice screaming, along with Pete's wail of terror. The world shifted in a way that Whitney had never experienced before, sideways, down, up and inside out all at the same time. He cut his shout off as soon as the world came back, panting as he fought his body's fight-or-flight instincts. Pete's wail lasted a bit longer, but he shut up as soon as Zander glared at him.

"Where the hell are we?" Pete asked, looking around the dark cave with wild eyes.

"Smallville, Kansas," Zander said, smirking at Pete's squeak of shock and Whitney's dropped jaw. "I found Superman's shortcut to the Fortress."

"Holy fucking shit," Pete breathed, meeting Whitney's eyes. He was pretty sure that Pete's expression of shock and terror matched his expression. Smallville was the last place either of them wanted to be right now.

+++++

The arctic was just a blur of white outside the windows. Jason watched the white silently, letting McNulty take care of getting them to the transponder, to the Fortress of Kal-El. The flight had only taken about an hour, making it 9:23 a.m. when they arrived over the fitfully glowing Fortress. It didn't look right. Jason frowned, studying the image on the screens. They couldn't see it through the windows, but the Kryptonian-based scanners could see straight through the storm, showing them the Fortress as clearly as if it was perfect weather. Their projections had said that the Fortress should be white and blue, glowing from within. It wasn't. It was dim, dark, with only a few of the great crystals glowing.

"Didn't we fly over here before?" McNulty asked, confused. "How the hell can we see this thing now when we couldn't before?"

"Excellent question," Jason said quietly. "I wish that I could believe that it was because Kal-El was dead, but I don't think that our Red Sun / Kryptonite cannon had enough power to kill him. Our projections say that it might have crippled him, but it wouldn't kill him without massive physical trauma."

"Should we go in?" McNulty asked, his eyes all but begged for the command to storm in.

"Send the constructs," Jason said, not letting his amusement at McNulty's disappointment show. "The Fortress is supposed to be trapped. They're expendable. You're not."

"Yes, sir," McNulty said, not at all mollified by the compliment. He knew it wasn't true.

They landed close to the crawler that Ross and Fordman had been using. Three CM's went to check out the crawler, while another ten CN's went into the Fortress, weapons at the ready. Jason watched through the lead CN's helmet camera, frowning at the obvious decay occurring in the Fortress. Something was very wrong, but he wasn't sure what it was yet.

The explosion of the crawler made McNulty start to his feet, Jason start, and their flyer rock in the snow. The three CM's were instantly destroyed, not that they would have survived the storm for much longer anyway. McNulty started snapping orders to the CN's inside the fortress, while Jason frowned. Booby trap or unrelated? He tended to think it was unrelated, but the flash of light that the lead CN's helmet made Jason start cursing.

"Stop them!" Jason yelled, startling McNulty. "They're escaping! Stop them now!"

The CN's ran for the light, but it was already too late. Even as they approached, the four figures outlined by the blue light disappeared. Jason growled, thumping the console of the flyer. They'd just missed capturing Lex yet again. The man had more lives than the proverbial cat. Jason straightened, his emotions returning to their pre-programmed steady state. Lionel hadn't wanted his favorite to be subject to the same ranges of emotions as had crippled Lex, so Jason's modifications had ensured that he didn't feel the same way as everyone else. His mother's spells had given him back his capacity to love and hate, but only where it concerned her.

"Now what?" McNulty asked, sighing.

The sensors started beeping, making Jason slap the emergency take-off switch. McNulty squawked, collapsing to the floor under the sudden surge of acceleration. Jason didn't, as he'd stayed strapped into his seat, and his modifications had strengthened him considerably. The Fortress exploded underneath them, going up in a great blast of fire and flying shards of crystal. The flyer flipped four and a half times, wobbled like a toy on the end of a string, and then straightened out to fly to a safe elevation over the Fortress.

"What the hell happened?" McNulty demanded as he picked himself up off of the floor. He was battered, bruised and bleeding from a small cut on his forehead.

"The Fortress self-destructed," Jason said dispassionately. "Doesn't matter now. I know where they went."

"Say what?" McNulty said, surprised. "How the fuck can you know where they went?"

"There's only one place they could have gone," Jason said, smiling grimly as he got on the comms to headquarters. "The Kawatche Caves in Smallville, Kansas."

Jason reported back to Lionel on what they'd found, sending him the video that the CN's had recorded. Lionel wasn't immediately available, but Jason left the information in a coded, private message for him. Next he called the garrison stationed outside of Smallville, notifying them of what to look for. The images they'd captured weren't very clear, but they had file pictures of Ross and Fordman, plus images of Lex. He sternly addressed the commander there, seeing the man's fear and amplifying it with his cold manner.

"You will locate and apprehend these individuals, Captain," Jason commanded. "If you don't, you will be executed. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir!" the captain said, snapping a perfect salute while swallowing hard. He looked terrified, which was just what Jason wanted.

"We will be there within an hour or so," Jason continued, controlling a smirk as the man went white. "I expect to hear good news when I arrive."

"Yes, sir," the captain said, nodding hard. He was shaking.

Jason turned of the comms, sighing as he leaned back in his seat. McNulty headed them towards Smallville, visibly puzzled. He tended his own head wound, sulking a bit that Jason didn't offer to help, didn't explain, and didn't say anything at all about what had happened. Jason let him stew, knowing it wouldn't be long before he had to ask. It took about fifteen minutes for McNulty to break.

"How do you know they're going there?" McNulty asked, giving Jason a grim glare. "If they can teleport, couldn't they go anywhere?"

"No," Jason said, "the system doesn't work like that. It has to have a transmitter and a receiver. There are only two transmitters on the planet, the Fortress and the Kawatche Caves. They couldn't have gone anywhere else. We'll trap them, and it will all be over."

"If we catch them," McNulty muttered.

Jason glared at him, making McNulty shut up. The rest of the flight to Smallville was silent. Jason filled his mind with the thoughts of the tortures he'd inflict on Lex, as well as plans for how many CM and CN models he needed to pick up just in case the fourth figure turned out to be Kal-El.

+++++

Pete panted as Zander hurried them through the Kawatche Cave system. He'd expected the nut to lead them straight towards the main entrance, the one that led to the chamber they'd appeared in, but he didn't. He led them deeper into the caves, through side passages, and along ways that Pete hadn't realized existed. They'd already been warned—at the point of Zander's gun—to keep their mouths firmly shut. Given the way sound carried in caves, that made total sense to Pete. Besides, the weight of his pack, combined with the pace that Zander had set for them was making it nearly impossible for him to catch enough breath for complaining.

Zander led the way, Whit went next, then Pete and finally the fucking CK that Pete desperately wished he could get away from. He'd worked in the Construct Design Department for years, assigned there after the instructors at his college had discovered he had a talent for genetic design. He'd been able to compartmentalize his mind for years, treating his careful work as nothing more than an academic exercise as he'd worked only with data, not blood or flesh samples, or worse yet babies. It wasn't until the CJ series was initiated that he had to start thinking. The CJ's were the first to be given more capacity to think. They'd been relatively successful, so with the CK's the order had been to adjust for nearly full intelligence.

It had been a disaster. The 0000 through 0500's had been all right, but they needed a hell of a lot more training to get them to work willingly. The 0501's through 4000's had been adjusted genetically to be different than their predecessors. They'd taken more surgery to make them compliant. From 4001 to 7500's had taken both. They'd kept working on the genetic designs, but it wasn't until the 8900 to 9350 that things truly went to hell. They were altering them in batches of 10 by that point, trying different combinations until they reached a point where they'd made one modification too many, resulting in constructs that went mad before full maturity, killing everyone around them. It had resulted in the entire CK series being condemned, supposedly including CK-9311 who was watching Pete's back entirely too carefully every time he looked back.

As they progressed, the cave was going upwards, making the climbing more difficult. Pete kept his mouth shut on his grumbles by trying to remember how the CK-9310 to 9319 had been changed. They'd made so many modifications that he just couldn't remember for sure. They'd either been the ones that went violent when touched, or they were the ones that were so gentle that they couldn't be trained to do anything useful, not even the sex trade.

"Shhhh!" Zander hissed at them all, nodding at the CK. He carefully took off his backpack, setting it down gently.

The CK grabbed Pete and Whit's necks firmly, making Whitney gasp and Pete shut his eyes in fear. Please, God! Let this be one of the gentle ones, not the violent ones! Zander slipped through a crack in the rock that Pete hadn't realized was there. Whit's hiss of surprise got both of their necks squeezed. Pete smacked Whitney's arm, glaring at him. Zander reappeared, smiling grimly. He nodded to the CK, and it released them.

"There's a passage here," Zander whispered, "That leads outside. There's a small detachment of CM's out there, with a truck. We're stealing the truck from them. Do what I tell you, and you'll survive. If you don't, you're dead meat. Be quiet, slip off your backpacks, go through the passage and then pull your backpack after you."

"We can't fight off CM's!" Pete whispered urgently. He knew too well what they were capable of. He'd ended up in the camps because he'd refused to make the changes required to achieve the CM models. The CN's were even worse than the CM's. "Do you have any idea what they're capable of?"

"Shut up," Zander growled, his eyes nearly glowing with insane fury.

Pete swallowed hard, nodding slowly. He was terrified of fighting the CM's, but damned if he wasn't more afraid of Zander and the CK. Zander went first, then Whit again, and then it was Pete's turn. He bit his lip as he slid the backpack off. It sucked so bad, being stuck between Zander and CK, his 'allies' and the military that would inevitably capture them. The damned collars would ensure that. He wasn't sure why they hadn't been found already.

Pete squeezed through the gap, reached back and took his pack from the CK, then scooted along the rock wall he found himself on, blinking as he realized where he was. They were near the dam, one of the few things in Smallville that hadn't been changed for the worse since his childhood. The CK squeezed through the gap after Pete, maneuvering its pack out of the crack with some difficulty. Zander watched, waited twitchily, while scanning the woods around them as if expecting to be attacked at any instant.

"We don't have a hell of a lot of time," Zander whispered to them. "CK, distract the CM's. You two, follow me. If you bolt, I'm killing you, got it?"

"Sir, yes sir!" Whit breathed, going pale.

"Got it," Pete gulped, nodding hard. "But…"

"Shut. It." Zander's glared was enough to make Pete worry about his bladder control. The CK headed off to the side, frowning at something, though Pete had no idea what it was. Zander led them off in the other direction, then cut towards the dam. Pete bit his lip on a gasp as four CM's came walking through the woods, looking for something or someone. They passed right by where Zander, Whit and Pete hid in the bushes, heading towards where the CK was hiding. Zander waved them to follow, his blue eyes almost laser bright with the warning not to fuck up. Pete was shaking as he followed Zander. Something on Zander beeped, making him stiffen.

"Run!" Zander yelled, setting off at a punishing pace.

Pete hesitated until he heard the explosion, and then a rumble of something huge collapsing behind him. Whit darted after Zander. Pete looked back just long enough to see that the very ground behind them was collapsing. Then he ran in terror, cursing with what little breath he had between the run and the weight of the pack. He tripped, and had a heart attack inducing moment where he was falling, knowing he'd never get up in time to escape the collapsing ground. The fall halted abruptly as Pete found himself thrown over the CK's shoulder. It ran at far greater than human speed after Whitney and Zander. Pete had the dubious pleasure of watching the destruction of Riley Field while riding the CK's shoulder.

"Into the truck!" Zander bellowed, throwing his pack in the back. Whit copied his moves like the soldier he was, and Pete found himself handled like a small child, stripped of his pack, put into the truck and strapped in without any effort on his part. The CK took the wheel, and they sped away, heading for Smallville.

"What the fucking hell happened?" Pete gasped.

"The traps I put on the caves were tripped," Zander said with a smug grin. "It pays to plan ahead."

"They're going to find the Fortress, you know," Whitney said, voice shaking ever so slightly.

"They already did," Zander replied, smirking at them. "It blew up as we teleported to the caves. I take no chances when there's a profit to make."

"Holy shit!" Pete breathed, amazed by Zander's ruthlessness. That was two major landmarks destroyed in the matter of an hour. What the hell else was this guy capable of?

+++++

Jason was gritting his teeth as he strode up to the well-guarded entrance to the Kawatche Caves. It had taken entirely too long to find replacements for his dead CM's and CN's. The problem was that they were in the middle of batches at the Smallville LuthorCorp Construct labs, meaning there were only minimal numbers available without pulling them from other vital jobs. He'd found what he needed, but it was only short-term. McNulty was growling about having been short-changed with only a dozen CN's made available for their use.

"Have you captured them?" Jason demanded of the captain.

"No, sir," the captain said, swallowing hard. "We had an anomalous flash of light in the central part of the caves, but once our people got there, there was no one there. We're searching the caves, but its slow going. There are many side caverns they could be hiding in."

"Do you have humans searching or C Series?" Jason asked, grateful for once for the modifications that controlled his emotions. McNulty was already looking like he wanted to kill the captain, and they needed him alive for the moment.

"Both," the captain said, a bead of sweat slowly dripping down his cheek.

"Good," Jason said.

He headed into the caves, waving the CN's in front of them, just in case there were booby traps of some sort. McNulty preceded Jason, his gun at ready. Jason triggered his internal modifications that amplified his abilities to near the equal of a CL. Time slowed down, his hearing and sight improved incredibly. That was probably what saved his life as they entered the central camber of the caves.

"Out!" Jason yelled, grabbing McNulty by the scruff of the neck.

He was reacting before he'd consciously noticed the miniscule flash of light that accompanied the explosive charge being set off. McNulty was over his shoulder before Jason had turned less than half a second later. McNulty's gasp had barely begun by the time Jason was running out the entrance to the caves. He kept running, feeling the tremors under his feet. He slowed once he was a mile away from the entrance, then cursed, running again at his full speed. The whole valley was collapsing, with explosions going off, the rumble of earth collapsing behind them, and a wave of dust that tried to choke them as it swept over them. Jason didn't outrun the edge of the cave's collapse until he was nearly to LuthorCorp.

"What the fucking hell happened?" McNulty gasped once Jason stopped and set him down.

"Lex," Jason growled, staring back at the crater that had once been Riley field. "No one but Lex could cause this much destruction. He must have set bombs to collapse the caves if he was discovered."

"God damn," McNulty breathed, eyes going wide as he surveyed the destruction slowly being revealed as the dust settled. "No wonder the guy is the World's Most Wanted, after Supes."

"We've got work to do," Jason said, brushing the dust off of his uniform. "They're not that far ahead of us. We need to track them down. Ross and Fordman have prison collars. We can use those to track them, or to destroy them if we need to."

"Do you ever slow down?" McNulty muttered, audible to Jason only because his senses were still amplified. Jason didn't bother responding. McNulty didn't matter to him. He was fundamentally expendable, through Jason would rather not have to train a new second in command anytime soon. It was a pain finding someone sufficiently ruthless and immoral to be able to deal with Lionel.

LuthorCorp's facilities had tracking labs that Jason took over. It took less than a minute to locate the collars that Ross and Fordman were wearing. They were stationary on the Smallville Dam. Jason snorted, assuming that Lex had abandoned the prisoners once they'd served their purpose. The CN team he sent from the valley got there within three minutes. Instead of finding two prisoners who had presumably been either knocked out or tied up, the CN's helmet cameras showed two collars with tiny white crystals on them. Somehow, Lex had managed to remove the collars and escape.

"Bring the collars in for examination," Jason ordered.

The CN reached out to pick up one collar. There was a flash of light, the camera cut out, and Jason started cursing. He slapped the comm. tab on his chest, having no doubt what was coming.

"Smallville Dam has just been blown up!" Jason bellowed, sending the warning across the entire down, throughout LuthorCorp's labs, and back to Lionel in Metropolis. "Evacuate!"

"Son of a bitch," McNulty breathed, awed at the chaos Lex had unleashed. He turned to Jason as alarms started whooping around them, and the scientists and soldiers of LuthorCorp ran to the doors. "No fucking wonder you want Lex's ass for your own. That guy's a walking disaster waiting to happen!"

"You have no idea," Jason growled, heading for the flyer waiting outside the plant. "Let's go. We just lost our one easy way to track them, but we know where they're going. It won't be hard to get ahead of them."

+++++

Clark nodded with relief as Lex led Pete and Whit away from him and the cave entrance. It was easy enough to distract the CM's once they were out of sight, though he couldn't do it while they were there. Clark straightened up, reached out with his mind, and found his four near-sons. It was so painful, always knowing what was happening to them. He'd never explained to Lex just how deep his telepathic link with the constructs was. Lex had explained once in the deep of the night after a nightmare that he'd had a sort of phantom limb sense of what happened to the clones that were based off of his DNA. Clark confirmed his experience, but hadn't explained that for him it went to the point of being able to talk to the children, know what they experienced, and hear their words mentally.

The early models had been like hearing puppies whimpering for someone to help them. The CJ's had been like hearing toddlers tortured. The CK's were like ten to twelve year old children, able to understand, but unable to control themselves ultimately. The CM's and CN's were nearly adults, mentally. He always spent hours counseling each new batch on how to behave, telling them the story of their murdered CK brothers, and promising that he'd find a way to save them eventually. He might not be able to save all of the individuals, but he would save his children's race as a whole.

They came eagerly, hearing their 'Papa's' voice in their heads. Clark smiled as they arrived, holding out his arms to them. That broke the reserve they all practiced so well, and they tumbled into his arms, sobbing silently to get to touch him at last.

"Shhh," Clark crooned, patting their backs. "I need you to go off that way, away from your vehicle. We're finally making progress on the plan. Tell CN's to be careful. We'll be coming through their areas soon, and they need to be careful not to react to me. I'm pretending to be a surviving CK."

*You can't be a CK!* the most dominant CM said mentally, looking shocked. *You're too smart.*

"I'm supposed to have been scrapped for being too smart and gentle," Clark said with a grin, "a 9311, so right at the end before the CK's went mad, and tried to free themselves."

*Well, maybe,* the most dominant one replied, making a face. *But anyone who knows anything will see that you're not really a CK.*

"We'll deal with it as we go," Clark reassured them, giving each a hug they gladly returned.

They all looked up as they heard the first explosion within the caves. Clark pulled on his backpack, touched each of their cheeks, and smiled at their answering grins. They ran in opposite directions. Clark caught up with Pete easily, picking him up when he fell to carry him. The escape in the truck onto the dam was easy. The CM's on the dam were busy being called to deal with the destruction in Riley Field, carefully ignoring their little truck in the woods as if it didn't exist. Once they were gone, Clark drove them to the center of the bridge, where Lex waved for them to stop.

"Next problem," Lex drawled, putting on his best 'don't mess with the madman' face as he turned to look at Whitney and Pete. "Those collars have to go."

"Dude!" Pete protested, going pale. "You'll kill us if you mess with these things! You'll blow our heads off!"

"Don't question me," Lex growled, jerking his chin at Clark.

Clark nodded, pulling first Pete, and then Whitney out of the truck. He already knew that he could undo the collars and fling them away in time (he'd done it several times before), but he suspected Lex had another sneaky trick planned when he started fishing into his pack. Clark had a hard time hiding his grin when he saw the little explosive crystals that Lex pulled out. He was going to have to tease Lex about his name being 'Sneaky McSneakerson' again.

"Stay still and let CK work," Lex said, pushing Pete to his knees in the middle of the dam.

Clark took the first crystal, and carefully calibrated it before setting it on Pete's collar. It would prevent the explosives from going off, no matter what he did to the collar. A quick jerk and the collar mechanism broke. Clark gently lifted the collar off of Pete, thumbing the crystal to be so sensitive to movement that it would explode when the next person touched it. Pete was whispering quiet curses as Lex let him go.

"How the hell did you do that?" Whitney breathed, slowly kneeling for his turn at Clark's hands.

"The crystals respond to Kryptonian blood," Lex smirked, arms crossed on his chest. "Luthor doesn't realize that the constructs could control the Fortress. I don't intend to tell him until well after I've been paid."

"That's how you did it," Pete said, awe in his voice. "That's how you stole all this stuff. You used him to open the way, him to find what worked. It…must have changed him."

"Why do you say that?" Lex snarled, hand on his gun as he glared at Pete.

"He's too smart," Pete said, edging away slightly. "He's too smart to be a CK. I know. I helped design them."

"Use your smarts for something else besides endangering my CK," Lex said, his voice so cold and dangerous that Clark looked up as he set down the collar next to its mate. Alex was looking out through Lex's eyes. Clark stood, going to his side, setting a gentle hand on Lex's shoulder. Lex's shoulders slowly relaxed, and he nodded to Clark.

"S-sorry," Pete stuttered, edging back towards the truck.

"Let's go," Lex said, jerking his chin at the truck. Whitney nodded, pushing Pete towards the truck. The drive off of the dam towards Smallville was relatively quiet, Clark taking the roads as fast as he could. He could feel the CM's approaching the collars, mentally petting them when they realized that they were about to die, and carefully kept his face turned so that Pete and Whitney couldn't see the tears shining in his eyes. Lex saw, but didn't bring any attention to Clark by patting his shoulder.

"Holy fucking shit!" Pete squawked when the dam went up in the collar's explosion.

"That should slow our pursuers down pretty well," Lex said smugly. "Flooding the entire town of Smallville and LuthorCorp should make our pursuers very unhappy."

"We're going to fucking die!" Pete wailed, looking back for the water that was going to be bearing down on them soon.

Clark floored the engine, turning towards his family's former farm, rather than heading for downtown Smallville, or what was left of it. He was glad they weren't going through there. It hurt too much to see what their little town had become after LuthorCorp started creating and training constructs there. They flew past the farm fast enough that Clark could pretend that his heart didn't hurt at seeing the gate falling down, the house burnt to the ground, and the barn collapsing into the ground like a swaybacked mule. The truck's tires squealed as Clark swung them around the corner to head towards Crater Lake as quickly as he could. Once they passed the lake, they should be safe enough from the flood. Pete's whispered obscenities were matched by Whitney's quiet begging of every god in existence that they make it. Lex looked calm, but Clark could see the worry in the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth that let him look closer to his real age than the twenty-something his mutation made him look.

Once they passed the lake, all three of Clark's passengers calmed down, though for Pete and Whitney it meant that they started bickering again. Lex's quiet sigh showed more clearly than anything how tired he was getting of their fights. Clark's lips twitched, but he kept driving at Lex's speed, heading them away from Smallville's training camps. He felt when he felt the children construct's quiet cries of dismay at being abandoned in the evacuation, felt when the water hit the children trapped there, and felt his heart break as they died, silently thanking their 'Papa Clark' for not letting them be tortured into being slaves of Lionel and his forces.

"It's better that the baby constructs die, CK," Lex said, putting a hand on Clark's shoulder as tears flowed down his cheeks. "They won't suffer now. They're free."

Clark nodded, dashing his tears away with one hand. Pete hushed Whitney with a wave of his hand, studying Clark carefully. He bit his lip, looking heartsick.

"They do feel what the others feel, don't they?" Pete whispered, swallowing hard. "The bosses always said that they didn't, but all the genetic models said that they would. It's why I refused to keep working at design once the CK models went bad. I knew they were thinking, feeling, that they could communicate with each other, no matter what anyone else said."

"He…felt the others die?" Whitney whispered, heart in his eyes.

Clark nodded, shrugged and focused on driving, occasionally sniffling and wiping his tears away. Pete and Whitney subsided into silence in the back seat, neither willing to speak. Lex kept his hand on Clark's shoulder for a long time, the simple touch giving far more comfort than it should have.

+++++

Jason sighed, studying the flooded training camp from the flyer. Three thousand CN's of three different age groups wiped out in one fell swoop. The prototype CO's destroyed. Hundreds of humans, most of them support personnel who could be replaced relatively easily, all killed by Lex's tricks. Worse still, the entire facility was destroyed, which was far harder to replace than mere flesh and blood.

"What a mess," McNulty sighed. "What next, sir?"

"They're heading to Gotham," Jason said dispassionately. "We set up roadblocks, checkpoints, and garrisons on every path that they could take. They cannot be allowed to pass."

"Yes, sir," McNulty said, nodding.

They were halfway done with setting up the checkpoints along the main highways to Gotham when Jason got a call from Metropolis, from Lionel.

"Come home," was all Lionel said, his face giving away nothing, good or bad, to explain why he was calling Jason away from his mission.

"Yes, sir," Jason replied, saluting. "I'll come straight back."

McNulty looked confused, but took over the preparations with just a nod from Jason. Jason flew home, mentally complaining about the distraction from finding Lex at last. Jason was thoroughly annoyed by the time he made it to Metropolis, and drove back to the mansion where Lionel waited. He knew that it was Lionel's nature to jerk Jason's chain from time to time, but his propensity for doing it while Jason was in the middle of vital tasks was immensely annoying.

"Sir," Jason called, striding into Lionel's office, "you summoned me?"

"Yes, I did," Lionel said, smiling more warmly than Jason had seen since Genevieve had fallen into her strange coma. "I had something important to share with you, something that should help you in your task."

"Thank you, sir," Jason said, surprised but keeping it from showing in anything more than a blink of his eyes.

Lionel smiled and gestured to the left. Jason looked, and then gasped. Genevieve was standing there, looking wonderful, perfectly normal, and completely healthy, other than the bandages on her hand where the IV's had been. She smiled at him, holding out her arms. Jason stared, his knees shaking with emotion. He only started into movement when his mother laughed, taking a step towards him. Jason swept her up in his arms, hearing his voice babbling nonsense, his mother's laughter, and Lionel's delighted chuckles. It took him a long time to let Genevieve go.

"What happened?" Jason asked, beaming at her as she smiled up at him.

"I was always inside," Genevieve said, smiling at him. "I was fighting Jor-El, the AI that runs the Fortress of Kal-El. He was trying to take over my body and mind. I refused to let him. I haven't lived such a long life to give up to some alien computer. When it was destroyed, I was able to push him back. Once the caves were destroyed, I was completely freed."

"That's wonderful!" Jason said, beaming. "You can give us an idea of what they'll do, how their technology works."

"Oh, it's far more than that, my dear," Genevieve said, shaking her head. "The link remains. Jor-El has been shut down, but he will be restored. They intend to recreate the Fortress in Gotham, to use its weapons against us. They have taken crystals from the Fortress that they can use against us, that will allow the Fortress to be rebuilt. You have to capture those crystals, Jason. If you don't, I'll go back to being a tool of Jor-El."

Jason stiffened, grasping his mother's fragile shoulders.

"That will never happen," Jason promised. "I will find them, I will stop them, and I will bring Lex and the crystals here. I swear it to you, Mother."

"I know you will," Genevieve said, smiling her old, familiar smile at Jason. She pulled him down for a tender kiss on his cheek, cradling his face in her hands. "I know you will. Never forget that I love you, my dear son."

Jason smiled, his heart warming as if he were still human. He gave her another hug, nodded to Lionel and strode out, all his drive restored. Genevieve and Lionel watched him go in silence. Once he was gone, Lionel came to her side, smiling as she looked up at him with that coy, knowing expression.

"The clones of my son are being prepared?" Genevieve asked, caressing Lionel's cheek.

"Yes," Lionel chuckled. "As well as the daughters you requested. You're sure that daughters are better suited for your purposes?"

"Very much so," Genevieve laughed. "Jason is lovely boy, but he's a boy. I require a female of my bloodline to switch into before Lex recreates the Fortress. Jason will fail. He doesn't realize it, of course, but he will inevitably fail. We have to be prepared before he does, both for his death and Jor-El taking my body back. I would not have my strongest ally in centuries be without me. If I switch to a new body, I believe that I will be free of Jor-El's influence. He may take over my old body, but he shouldn't have any link to my new one. It's certainly not my preferred method of extending my lifespan, with all the annoyance of a new face, but in this case I think it's the best method. Better a new face than to be Jor-El's slave for eternity."

Lionel laughed his wicked laugh, pulling her into a kiss.

"Well, I believe that my current playmate will have to be sent away," Lionel chuckled. "My bed only has room for you, my dear."

"Now that would be a pity." Genevieve smirked at him. "From what I've seen, Lana is a lovely girl. She has much to answer for, both for her ancestor Isobel as well as for her own actions. Let's both play with her for a few nights. We have time before my daughters are old enough for me to cast the spells to transfer my soul into their bodies. With ten being made, I should make the transition to one of them. The others can be sacrificed for greater power, should any survive after my transition spells."

"As you wish, my dear," Lionel said, caressing her cheek. "I'm so glad that you're back. I've missed your wicked mind nearly as much as I've missed your beautiful body."

"Thank you," Genevieve said, dimpling at Lionel.

+++++

Bruce refused to let the tired sigh that was beating against his teeth out. There was no one around—he was alone in his office—but he refused to admit how depressed he was at the loss of Lex and Clark. Loosing Lex somewhere between Gotham and the Fortress had been a blow, but they'd still had Clark as their symbol of hope. Loosing Clark to Jason's cannon had almost destroyed the Resistance, though neither side had found a body. That left just enough hope for them to continue fighting. It had nearly broken Bruce's heart. He hated the thought that he'd lost his two best friends, even if it had gotten him a pair of beautiful, thoroughly dangerous lovers in the form of Lex's former bodyguards.

"Bruce!" Hope called, poking her head into his office.

"Hope," Bruce said, smiling at her. "I was just thinking of you."

"Bruce, we have a Lex sighting." Hope's normally impassive face was as close to beaming as he'd ever seen.

"You're sure?" Bruce asked, surging to his feet.

"It's…" Hope started laughing, shaking her head in awe. "Bruce, you have to see it to believe it. Only Lex could do all of this."

"That destructive?" Bruce asked, grabbing his jacket and following her to the Batcave.

"It tops anything he's ever done," Hope said, smiling for a microsecond as Bruce took her hand. They dropped each other's hands as soon as one of Alfred's trusted servants else came up the stairs, but the moment of contact reassured Bruce that he wasn't truly alone.

The Batcave was busy with Resistance workers and superheroes. Bruce's adopted sons, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, and Tim Drake directed everything, carrying out Bruce's orders with well-oiled efficiency. The main conference room was relatively quiet, though the rest of the cave nearly vibrated with excitement. It must be a Lex sighting, Bruce thought. Nothing else got everyone charged up in the same way. The man had a positively electric effect on the people around him.

"What do we have?" Bruce asked, striding into the conference room with Hope at his right shoulder.

"Lex, what else?" Mercy said, her eyes smiling at him, even though the rest of her face didn't.

"He's at it again," Diana laughed, shaking her head and pointing to the displays.

Bruce checked the information they'd pulled up, eyebrows rising towards his hairline as he saw the level of destruction. At 9:25 a.m. there had been an explosion equal to a small-scale nuclear bomb in the Arctic, destroying a detachment of CM's and CN's sent out at Lionel's express order, with Jason Teague in charge. Unfortunately, Jason hadn't been destroyed with them. Precisely three minutes later, Teague headed for Smallville, arriving at 10:22 a.m., where he entered the Kawatche Caves. Approximately thirty seconds later, the Kawatche Cave system—the entire cave system that spread for something like twenty miles under Riley field—had collapsed, unfortunately not killing Jason again. At 10:37 a.m., the Smallville Dam had blown up, flooding LuthorCorp's main factory for producing constructs, their main research facility, and their main construct training facility in what remained of downtown Smallville. Close to 3,500 humans and constructs had been killed in the flood. Yet again, Jason escaped. He had been called back to Metropolis. At 11:27 a.m., 11:43 a.m., and 12:01 a.m., there had been explosions at checkpoints near to Smallville. Each explosion was about half as powerful as the arctic one. So far, the total dead (which somehow included very few civilians) stood at nearly 9,000.

"That's Lex," Bruce sighed, rubbing his face. "I suppose picking up a phone to tell us he was alive was too much trouble for him."

Diana laughed, Hope and Mercy both smirked, and Cary, the CK that Clark had rescued a few years ago grinned. Bruce still wasn't very comfortable with the CK, but Clark had insisted on bringing it home. Its last job before it was rescued had resulted in it loosing an arm, part of its right leg and one green eye. It had prosthetics and an eye patch now. It was painful seeing something that looked so much like Clark, without being Clark, especially given how it had been damaged. Despite that, it had proven to be very helpful in the past, giving them ideas of what Clark was up to, or passing messages to and from Clark. Bruce still didn't know how it managed to communicate with Clark. Clark refused to explain.

"Do we have any proof that Clark is with him?" Bruce asked, looking up as the CK nodded hard. "I know you've said he's alive, Cary. But I need hard evidence to convince everyone else."

Cary sighed, looking heartbroken.

"No one else knows about your link to him, Cary," Diana said, petting his hair. She smiled and hugged him as he curled into her side. "They wouldn't believe it. For everyone else, we need hard evidence."

Cary sighed, nodded and tapped a spot on the map close to the next to last explosion. He tapped his remaining eye, and then pointed at the spot again. Bruce frowned, not understanding what he meant. Cary sighed, going to the door to point at the security camera watching the cave.

"He was caught on security camera there?" Bruce asked, suddenly excited.

Cary grinned and nodded. He held out his hand, with the CK-9312 tattoo. He made a sideways slashing move, and held up one finger. Bruce looked at Hope and Mercy who both looked puzzled. Diana looked equally puzzled.

"He's…is he pretending to be a CK?" Bruce asked astonished, as what Cary must mean occurred to him. "CK-9311?"

Cary nodded, beaming at Bruce as though he was the smartest person in the history of the world. Bruce wondered for the millionth time just how Cary could have escaped the surgeries that made the other constructs functionally living robots. He was far too intelligent to have had all the surgeries that the others did.

"That tells us what to look for anyway," Hope said. "Lex with a CK."

Cary shook his head hard, holding up two fingers.

"There's two others with him?" Bruce smiled at the confirming hard nod. "Friends?"

Cary made a face, sort of shrugged his shoulders, and looked uncomfortable.

"Do they know who Lex and Clark are?" Bruce asked, getting concerned.

Cary shook his head no, very hard this time.

"Lovely," Bruce sighed, patting Cary's shoulder. "Well, at least we know not to contact them directly until they're in safe territory. Do you know which route they're going to take?"

Cary hesitated, face going as blank as any construct's face. Hope and Mercy both shifted positions, tensing. Diana looked concerned as well, though she hid it a bit better. Eventually, Cary's face cleared, and he went to the map on the wall, showing them the route he thought they'd take: Columbus, OH, and then on to cross into Resistance territory at Pittsburg, PA.

"Damn," Bruce whispered, wondering what the hell could have led to them taking that route. "Straight through controlled territory most of the way. Why not swing north? Cross the border sooner?"

Cary shrugged, looking like he wanted to cry that he couldn't convey the reasons to them. Bruce forced a smiled, patting his shoulder.

"It's all right, Cary," Bruce reassured him. "I'm sure they have a very good reason. I just wish we could give them more help. It'll take them two days just to get to Pittsburg with all the checkpoints and destruction between here and there. Right. Let's see what we can do to help distract Lionel and Jason. Maybe a few major attacks on Lionel's resources will pull enough away to help them make it more easily."

"Think like Lex," Hope said, making everyone grin.

"No one thinks like Lex," Mercy said, chuckling. "I doubt we could come up with anything even a fraction as destructive as what he does. The man's a genius for destroying Lionel's work."

+++++

Whitney was more and more convinced that Zander could not possibly be just a scavenger. The things he'd seen the man do in the last twelve hours were so far beyond what a scavenger could pull off that it was ridiculous. He could accept Zander having found the secret way to the Fortress, maybe while hiding from Luthor's forces. He could accept him figuring out that his CK could access the Fortress' crystals. That made sense, a scavenger trying new uses for existing tools. He could accept the man booby-trapping the Fortress and the caves. It went along with the man's obvious paranoia. He could even accept that Zander knew a few dozen ways to get around Lionel's forces, checkpoints, and guards. That all made total sense.

But there was no fucking way a simple scavenger would have this much knowledge of the military structures, explosives, hacking, and how to fuck up a town to the point it was reduced to complete chaos in less than five minutes.

"Holy fucking shit," Pete breathed as Columbus, OH dissolved into anarchy. "The guy's a walking disaster area. I don't even know what the hell he did, Whit. How in hell did he do this?"

"Hack the computers, release a virus, and call in a bomb threat," Whitney said, ticking off the things Zander had done, "then bomb a different area entirely. Followed by whatever the hell he's doing now. We're going to die if we don't get away from him, Pete."

"No shit, Sherlock," Pete said sourly.

"The CK's busy helping him," Whit said, tugging Pete's sleeve. "This is our best chance to get away."

"They've got the crystals," Pete said, easing back with Whitney.

"I know," Whitney said, "and we're alive, free, with no collars around our necks. Which is worth more? Your life or the crystals?"

Pete blinked, looked at Zander and the CK, looked at Whitney and started backing into the chaotic crowd more quickly. They slipped away easily, blending into the crowd of terrified people. Zander's virus had taken down the power grid, destroyed all communications, and turned off every single traffic light in the city. They'd made it through the barren zone around the fortified core of Columbus easily, blending in with the other traffic on the road with ease.

Like most big cities these days, Columbus was surrounded by a wall that kept the citizens in as much as it kept attacks out. In Columbus, the wall followed the old I270 highway, which made a complete loop around the town. Outside the walls of the city, there was a slum area that had slowly developed. It was periodically razed to the ground, but the slum residents always rebuilt it. Right now, it was almost a quarter of a mile wide around the walls in places. That's were Zander had gone to begin his destructive rampage.

Whitney led them away from Zander, back towards the barren lands and the remaining highway. There were only two roads that led into Columbus, one going east-west, the old I70, and one going north-south, the old I71. Everything else had been destroyed after Lionel's order to consolidate and fortify all American cities. The barren lands outside of the walls were filled with every sort of land mine imaginable. There was no way Whitney was going to pick his way through them.

"We've got to get to the road," Whitney said, working to push through the crowd that was suddenly surging the wrong way.

"Dude, there're CN's up there!" Pete gasped, catching Whit's sleeve as he saw through the crowd. "We can't go that way!"

"Shit!"

They changed direction, going with the crowd. Whit led them off a side street through the slum, still trying to head towards the road. They were confronted by another batch of constructs, these armed with guns. They switched direction, hurrying, and then had to switch again, and again.

"They're fucking closing in," Pete whimpered. "We're so fucking doomed, man!"

"Shut up," Whitney growled, stomach churning with nerves. He blinked as they came out on the same street that they'd abandoned Zander and the CK. They were only a few feet away. Zander looked up, smiling the most evil smile that Whitney had ever seen on anyone's face.

"Nice of you to rejoin us," Zander said, packing up his stuff. "Ready to get going? We have a checkpoint to go through."

"The CN's are closing in," Pete said, giving Whit a quick glare that he'd led them straight back to their captors. "We gotta get out of here."

"I should hope they'd be closing in," Zander said smugly. "I've been luring them here all along. Now hurry. You don't want to be here when the bombs I set go off."

"Not another bomb," Pete whimpered, climbing back into the truck.

Whitney climbed in more slowly, looking at the CK. It gave him the most clearly apologetic look that he'd ever seen in his life. Whitney's jaw dropped, and he stared at the CK. It blushed, ducking its head before climbing into the truck.

"You herded us," Whitney said, shocked. "Your fucking CK talked to the CN's and herded us back here!"

"What?" Pete said, astonished.

"Of course," Zander said, smiling wickedly. "I can't have my valuable partners going missing, now can I? Of course, the next time you try to run off on me, I'll have the CK tell them to drill you through the head."

The CK drove them through the slum, heading towards the west gate through the city. The checkpoint was chaos as people tried to force their way into the city. The CN's, CM's and regular military manning it were overwhelmed.

"How the hell are we going to get through this?" Whitney demanded.

"Watch and learn," Zander said chuckling. He had the CK drive right up to the gate, leaning out the window to bellow at the commander.

"Hey!" Zander called, "There's a bomb back a few blocks! We saw them setting it up!"

"Damn it, we don't have time for dealing with—" the captain snarled, trying to force people away from the gate.

"Fucking moron, do you want everyone to die?" Zander bellowed, startling everyone into silence, including the civilians. "My CK unit found it. It's by the lamppost next to the Chinese restaurant. It's all crystal and plastic, something the Resistance has to have created. What the hell is wrong with you that you're going to let it go off?"

"Oh shit!" the captain said, waving to his CN's. "You're sure? Damn it, the Resistance has been doing attacks all along the Line. Tell me it's not happening here, too!"

"Sorry, but it's clearly a Resistance bomb," Zander said. "Now let us through this thing before it fucking kills everyone!"

The captain hesitated, biting his lip before he nodded approval. His CM's raised the gate, letting Zander's CK drive the truck through the barricade into the heart of Columbus. Ninety percent of the crowd surged in after them, trying to escape the potential destruction behind the wall. Everything inside the city was as dark and chaotic as outside, but they were in. It took nearly an hour to drive across the narrow breadth of the town, during which the power grid tried to come on half a dozen times. Just about the time they hit the checkpoint on the other side of the city, a huge explosion went off, making the guards at the checkpoint wave them right through. They'd been in the city, so of course they must be okay, Whitney realized, feeling somewhat faint as he watched the barren lands on the east side of the city fly by as the CK floored the engine.

"Holy fucking shit," Pete breathed. "We made it. I don't fucking believe that we made it."

Whitney sighed, letting his head thump back against his seatback. No, Zander was definitely not an ordinary scavenger. The only person he'd ever heard of that could pull off this sort of shit was Lex Luthor. He didn't say anything, not wanting to risk getting his head blown off. Lex was known to be a complete nutcase, after all, but for whatever reason, he'd apparently decided to 'rescue' Whitney and Pete. Maybe he felt the need to save someone after loosing his alien lover, Whit thought, but it didn't really matter. He was alive (for now), had a powerful defender (for now), and was on his way to escaping to the free territories in the northeast. Now if only he could get some sex, life would be good.

+++++

Jason growled, surveying the reports of all the damage Lex and the Resistance were causing. There had been attacks on every major stronghold along the Line from Pittsburg, PA up to Winnipeg, Canada. Most of the attacks had done minimal permanent damage, but the ones centered on Chicago had nearly destroyed the whole city. There were scattered attacks going on in places as far off as Columbus, OH, Star City, CA, and Dallas, TX, but none of them appeared to be anything other than distractions from the Resistance's effort to clear a way for Lex to cross the border.

"He has to be going north," McNulty said, studying the pattern of destruction.

"If everything says that he's going north," Jason said, studying the maps as intently as McNulty, "then he won't go that way. He'll go a different way, south or east instead. That's how Lex works. The attacks along the line are just a distraction. I would wager that the chaos in Columbus is Lex's fault. We need to see if we can find out if a bald man with a CK and two others passed through Columbus."

It took nearly four hours, given that the power and communication grid in Columbus was still off-line, but Lex had gone through. He'd been the one to give the warning about a 'Resistance' bomb along the west wall of the city. He'd gone straight through the city, and been let out the other side without any argument. Jason had every human in charge killed for their failure, from the mayor on down to the captains guarding the gates.

"Shit," McNulty grumbled. "He slipped through our fingers again. Where will he try to cross the border?"

"Probably Pittsburg," Jason said, arms crossed on his chest. "Have Oliver North sent there to personally man the gates. His history with Lex will be useful in motivating him. I'm going to try and get ahead of Lex, block his normal attack patterns. I want you to take a large detachment of CN's to beat the bushes behind him, McNulty. Chase him towards me so that I can kill him. Remember, if you do manage to catch them, I want Lex. His companions are yours, but Lex is mine."

"Yes sir!" McNulty said, grinning at him as he saluted precisely. "Thank you, sir!"

+++++

Clark was relieved when they finally stopped at a homeless / refugee camp. It was well after dark. He was tired, despite having done nothing much besides driving. They were over halfway to Pittsburg where Lex intended to cross the Line. Clark thought that it took far too long to travel the distance when you couldn't fly. He'd tried to fly when Whitney and Pete were occupied with other things, but he'd yet to manage even a two-second float. Lex caught him at it once, giving him a look that said 'cut it out', so Clark had. He knew he shouldn't be pushing himself after what Jason's cannon had done to him. He just wanted to get them all home as soon as possible.

"Go get us more water," Lex ordered Clark, keeping an eye on Whitney and Pete. "We're almost out."

Clark nodded, playing his part of a CK. The camp was fairly settled, though everyone lived in tents that they could take down at a moment's notice. It was busy, bustling, and so different from Bruce's manor, the Fortress, or Smallville before Lionel destroyed it. Clark had never gotten to spend much time around people while growing up—Mom and Dad had been to afraid of his being found—so he'd never gotten to really interact with people. Of course, pretending to be a CK meant he still didn't get to interact with people, but that was all right. Right now, interaction would be bad.

The camp was chaos, true chaos instead of the controlled chaos that Lex caused. There was no rhyme or reason to the layout. People simply pitched their tents where they wanted, leaving everyone else to work around them. There were campfires, some elaborate barbeque rigs, lots of little jury-rigged stoves, and every sort of cooler to hold food that was possible. Cars were parked all over, mingled with trucks, bicycles, and carts. The people varied as much as everything else, from true hobos to rich wanderers in huge RVs that lived on the road rather than being nailed down into one city by Lionel's policies. Some were so filthy Clark tried not to breath, others were so clean they looked utterly out of place, but most of the people were sort of scruffy, worn and tired, rather like Clark.

All of them took one look at him and avoided him.

He sighed through his nose, still hunting for a safe water supply. He couldn't blame them for avoiding him. With his face and scars, the fake tattoo on his hand, they saw 'construct' and didn't dare get close. It was dangerous getting close to constructs, even the ones who'd obviously been scrapped the way Clark was supposed to have been. He saw one CM, tending a fire for his master. Its eyes lit up when it spotted him, but it sent the clear message not to get too close. His master would try and steal Clark from Lex. He did let Clark know where the water was, ending his aimless wandering through the camp.

There was an old, old well, Clark found, that someone had deepened and updated, providing a pump handle so you didn't have to haul a bucket up a shaft. Clark happily filled their water jugs, listening to the conversations around them. As soon as he'd approached the water, everyone else disappeared, not wanting to be close to him.

"Perfect!" a man's voice said, entirely too close to Clark.

He ignored it, continuing to fill his water jugs. The man tugged at Clark's sleeve, apparently expecting the tug to get him to follow him.

"Come along now, you," the fat little man said, beaming at Clark. "I'm your new owner. You can just leave those."

Clark looked at him, giving him the look that always made people utterly nervous and break out in a sweat. It took a bit longer than normal to sink into the little man. He blinked, studying Clark for a long moment before grabbing his left hand to look at the tattoo.

"Ah, a CK unit," the man said, looking a bit less pleased. "Well, that can be worked around. You can hear, can't you, CK-9311? Good. Now come with me. I own you."

He tugged at Clark's hand, expecting Clark to follow him. Clark didn't move. He kept looking. The man started sweating as he tugged harder. The people around them were watching, some with fear, some with confusion, but most with great amusement. A few were openly pointing at the two of them while snickering.

"Didn't you hear me?" the man said, dark patches appearing under his arms. "You're mine now! Come on!"

He tugged hard at Clark's hand. Clark pulled his hand free, turned, picked up the water jugs and walked away, having a horrible time keeping his face still and calm. He knew perfectly well that he hadn't been sold. He knew perfectly well that the little man was trying to steal him. The little man spluttered and followed Clark, tugging at his arm, trying to get him to come along quietly.

"There you are!" a woman's voice cried, all bright enthusiasm and cheer. "I knew you must have gotten lost looking for the water. I can't imagine why he'd send you out all on your own. Well, other than the trusting you'll come back thing. Really, Mr. Lee, quit trying to steal him. He's not for sale, and you couldn't keep him anyway."

Clark turned, and then beamed. He knew her, though he had no idea what the heck Chloe Sullivan was doing in Luthor territory when she had a bounty on her head the size of Texas. She was still much the same, with short blond hair, blue eyes, a low-cut top that inspired men to look down instead of at her face, with her signature oversized shoulder bag full of weapons, notebooks, and various spy gear slung over her shoulder.

"Lois!" the little man growled. "I'm not stealing him. He's obviously on his own."

"Puh-lease," Chloe / Lois said, rolling her eyes at him. "You couldn't take him away from his owner. He's got loyalty issues. He always comes home again, no matter what. So let him go. I'll get him back where he belongs, and you can pretend this never happened."

Mr. Lee snarled at her, but stomped off in a huff. Clark watched him go, and then nearly laughed out loud at the expression on Chloe's face. She was looking at him like she couldn't believe he'd had the balls to do something this brazen.

"Come here and gimme a hug, sweetie!" Chloe said, holding out her arms.

Clark set down the jugs, and hugged her hard enough to lift her right off the ground. She knew him, just like she knew Lex. Officially she was a reporter, covering the war against Lionel, but unofficially she was one of the Resistance's better spies and saboteurs. He buried his face in her hair so he could whisper to her while she giggled at the hug.

"I'm CK-9311," Clark whispered quickly, "and Lex is Zander, a scavenger. We've got a couple of strangers with us so be careful."

"Everyone here knows me as Lois," Chloe whispered before pulling back to grin at him. "Now set me down, silly. Let's get you home!"

She chattered as they walked, pretending to guide him while following the minor jerks of his arm that told her which way to go. By the time they were in hearing range of Pete and Whitney's normal complaints, Lex was watching them approach with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face.

"There you are!" Chloe said, coming over and hugging him. "How in the world could you send him out there for water all by himself? He needs someone to take care of him!"

"Considering that the pump is right over there," Lex drawled, pointing at a water pump that Clark had completely missed seeing while looking at the crowd, "I didn't think it was a big deal."

Clark went beet red while Chloe looked at the pump, then back at Clark. She started laughing, shaking her head in dismay.

"CK, you are so hopeless!" Chloe laughed. "Come on. I'll whip you guys up something good for dinner."

"You are not joining us," Lex growled, going into full Zander mode.

"Of course I am," Chloe retorted, raising an eyebrow at him. "You know you can't resist me."

"Uh, hi," Whitney said, immediately getting to his feet and trying to look suave.

"Don't even try," Chloe said, flipping a hand at him. "I'm well and truly taken, even if he tries to pretend that I'm not."

She stuck her tongue out at Lex, who groaned, letting his chin drop to his chest. Clark was trying not to laugh, especially with the intent expression on Pete's face, but it was really hard. Chloe always gave Lex trouble. She was the second best saboteur the Resistance had, right after Lex. They had a running competition going on for who could do the most damage. The two of them together was going to be like unleashing the Dogs of War upon Lionel's forces. Clark was just glad he got to watch. They might even let him help from time to time if he was lucky.

"She's his?" Whitney asked Clark, heartbroken.

Clark shrugged, putting two of the five-gallon jugs in the truck before bringing the third to Chloe for her to use for dinner. Whitney whimpered, settling by their little campfire to pout. Pete was still watching him, so Clark looked at him. To his surprise, Pete looked right back, a tiny frown on his forehead. After a minute, he nodded slightly, as if deciding something. Clark blinked, checked that Lex and Chloe were busy teasing each other, and that Whitney wasn't watching. No one else was paying attention to them, so Clark turned back to Pete and slowly, distinctly, obviously winked at him. Pete jumped, going rather pale. He opened his mouth to say something, but just then Whitney tried to flirt with Chloe, and she punched him hard. That resulted in Lex yelling at Whitney, Chloe laughing until tears ran down her cheeks, and Whitney scurrying back to Pete's side to sulk while rubbing the big bruise on his cheek.

Clark was sure his amusement showed in his eyes as he met Pete's look. Pete chuckled, shaking his head. He started teasing Whitney too, until Whit came onto him. That led to Whitney having two bruises on his face, Chloe collapsing into Lex's side in gales of laughter, and dinner nearly burning until Clark saved it.

Clark was pretty sure Pete had figured out who he was, but he wasn't that worried about it. The way that Pete had reacted to learning that Clark could feel and talk to the constructs reassured him that he wasn't that bad of a guy. One way or the other, Clark was determined to save him and Whitney. He didn't think that Pete would do anything to jeopardize that.

+++++

Lana shuddered after Genevieve and Lionel left her alone. God, she ached. It had been bad with Lionel, but now that his lovely wife had woken up, it was hell. She really didn't know what she'd done to piss Genevieve off so badly, but the woman took great pleasure in making Lana's life a living hell. At least they didn't insist on making her accompany them. She might be a functional whore, but she didn't want to be forced to spend all her time with those two. They always left her feeling like she'd been dipped in sewage.

"Oh, so sore!" Lana groaned as she rolled off of the bed and stretched carefully.

Lana headed for the bathroom, gingerly rubbing the bruises, blood, and assorted marks they'd left on her body. A good hot shower with lots of soap to wash off the feel of them helped. Clean clothes helped too. Granted, Genevieve was only allowing her a tiny little prison smock that barely covered the strategic regions, but it was better than being forced to be totally nude. That had been Lionel's favorite way to humiliate her when she'd first arrived. Her collar chafed, so Lana put a little cream under it, wincing as the cream burned in the marks on her neck.

"Lana," Genevieve said, coming into the bedroom without knocking, "do be a dear and come with me."

"Yes, Mistress," Lana said, controlling her wince with practiced ease.

Genevieve latched a leash onto Lana's heavy leather collar, leading her through the Fortress like a pet. Lana kept her hands together in front of her, her eyes down, and her mouth firmly shut. She may not like Genevieve or Lionel, but that didn't matter. Lana wanted to live, and for now, that meant doing what the Rulers of the World wanted. She was sure that eventually the Resistance would succeed, and when they did, Lana would be free. Maybe the next ruler of the world would be a bit less crazy, and a lot gentler with his or her lovers.

Genevieve led her down into the basement of the mansion, to the labs that Lana had always known were there, but had never been allowed to see. She'd thought that Lionel built his special Lex-constructs here, but none of the tubes were filled with red haired young men. There were ten brunette females on the left side of the room, and ten brown haired males on the right. They looked about the same age, maybe eleven years old. The females looked fully aware, eyes watching Lana and Genevieve walk by. Their hands smacked against the glass of their containers as Genevieve walked by, ignoring them. The males were apparently sleeping, hanging limp and motionless in the green fluid.

"This is the one?" a technician asked, eyeing Lana.

"Yes," Genevieve said, giving Lana the most evil smile she'd ever seen. "This is the one. Make sure that you don't damage her permanently. My husband and I aren't quite done with her yet."

"W-what are you going to do to me?" Lana asked, breaking her ironclad rule not to speak until spoken to.

"You're going to help us with a little problem, my dear," Genevieve said, running a finger down Lana's cheek and making her shudder. "It won't hurt too much, not like some of the…other things we've done with you. Cooperate, or believe me, it will be much worse once you're returned upstairs."

Genevieve's eyes promised tortures that made the BDSM sex they'd inflicted on her so far seem like vanilla sex. Lana bit her lip, wishing she dared step back, run away. She wished there was someone she could scream for who would come save her. She wished there was something she could do that would free her, but there wasn't. This was her life; she'd made her choice a long time ago, so she didn't have much right to complain now when things suddenly went sour. She could have married Whitney, but she chose to chase people in power instead. That was what had gotten her here.

"Yes, Mistress," Lana whispered, shaking.

"Very good," Genevieve said, giving the collar to the technician. "Be thorough, but no permanent damage, understood?"

"Understood, ma'am," the technician said, keeping a firm grip on the leash. He obviously didn't realize that Lana wouldn't run away. Genevieve left, the sound of her heels echoing through the quiet lab until a door shut. The technician pulled tentatively on Lana's leash and she raised her chin, looking at him with all her old fire and personality.

"What are you going to do to me?" Lana demanded. "Why?"

"Ms. Luthor's 'daughters' aren't maturing as she wishes," the technician said, a little surprised by the change in her personality. "We're to take samples and personality downloads from you to then apply to her clone-children."

"You're going to implant my personality into her clones?" Lana asked, astonished. "Oh, now that's just funny. Lead on. I can't imagine what good that will do."

She let the technician strap her into a chair, lips curled in a smirk that had little humor in it. It wasn't until they'd drawn several samples of her blood that Lana looked at the clone-girls who were still trying to get out of their tubes.

"Is this supposed to make them more compliant?" Lana asked, wincing as the technician strapped a helmet of some sort tight around her skull.

"No," the technician said, surprised. "It's to make them more defiant, more rebellious, and greedier. Apparently, you're the perfect donor for those qualities. That's why I was surprised to see you brought in that way, led around on a leash like a pet."

Lana gasped, eyes going wide. She couldn't turn her head because of the helmet, but she tried hard to look at the technician out of the corner of her eyes. He was completely serious, as far as she could tell. Lana bit her lip and deliberately relaxed, slipping back into her little pink princess mode, the sweet, compliant, obedient girl who never asked for anything, never wanted anything except for everyone to be nice, who never asked for or enjoyed sex. She kept focusing on that half of her personality as the technician flipped a series of switches, sending electricity searing through her body. She was a Good Girl. She was a Good Girl! She was a Good Girl!

+++++

Pete started awake as Chloe yelled at someone. He groaned, rubbing his face with one hand. Whitney rolled over, and yipped as he rolled over on the bruises on his face.

"She is so fucking loud," Pete grumbled, sitting up.

"I know," Whitney said, rubbing his face gingerly. "You'd think that Chloe would have learned how to shut up by now."

"It's Chloe," Pete said, getting up and pulling on his shoes. "I don't think she'll ever learn to shut the fuck up. She didn't know how to shut up in Smallville. I'm not sure that she'll ever learn how."

They'd both recognized Chloe instantly when she walked up guiding 'CK'. Neither of them had said anything about it. Pete had seen the warning look in Chloe's eyes. Pete was pretty sure that Whitney hadn't figured out that CK was actually Kal-El, but it had been three short easy steps for Pete to figure out. First, he was visibly too smart to be a CK. If he'd pretended to be a CN, no problem, Pete would have bought it, but a CK only had the base intelligence of a ten or eleven year old. It wouldn't have been able to drive, much less all the stuff Kal-El had done. Second, the way 'CK' had herded them by communicating with the other constructs in the area was exactly what the models had said Kal-El would be able to do, if not blocked by the surgeries and training. Obviously the surgeries and training weren't as effective as everyone wanted to believe. Then third, the way he watched everyone in wonder when they got to the camp was too much like someone seeing the world for the first time. Kal-El was an alien. No one knew when he'd arrived on Earth, but he clearly didn't understand humanity or he would never have given his spaceship to Lionel bloody Luthor.

'CK' was obviously Kal-El. Pete had no intention of telling anyone. Kal-El appeared to have adopted Zander, Whitney and Pete. He was obviously fond of Chloe, making Pete think that he'd met her in the Resistance territories. She might be their ticket through the Line to safety. Supporting Kal-El seemed like the best way to get to freedom, so Pete was determined to keep his fool mouth shut for once in his life.

"What the hell do you mean you're taking everything, including our packs?" Chloe bellowed, making Pete and Whitney scramble out of the tent.

There was a military man standing between Zander, Kal-El and Chloe, not letting them get to the truck. He had several CN's with him, who looked nervous to Pete's trained eye. The packs of crystals from the Fortress were still in the truck, which made Pete's blood go to ice in his veins. No fucking way were those crystals going to fall into Luthor's hands!

"Like hell you're stealing our packs!" Pete yelled, pushing right past the CN's and gabbing the straps of his pack.

"Damn straight," Whitney agreed, grabbing his pack and pulling it out.

"You can't do that," the commander said, glaring at them. "You'll be compensated for them. We need all of this."

"You're not fucking taking our profits!" Pete growled, glaring up at the man in fury. "You know perfectly well that you'll take the truck and give us a pittance for it. Our stuff is our stuff! Back the fuck off!"

Pete swung his pack out, pulling it on while glaring defiantly at the man. Whitney did the same, then Kal-El came over and pulled out the other packs, face properly blank. The military guy snarled but backed down when Kal-El looked at him. He had a really intimidating stare.

"Fine," the man said, "Just get out of our way. We need this truck right away."

"And you're going to compensate us for stealing it, aren't you?" Zander drawled, arms crossed over his chest.

It took about an hour to sort all of it out. Zander drove one hell of a hard bargain, nearly driving the military man to pull his hair out by refusing to budge until he got a (semi)decent price for the truck. Chloe's constant complaints and interruptions to bitch about the unfairness of the situation didn't help at all. Pete sat on top of his lumpy, uncomfortable pack, determined to keep the crystals safe. He really hated the idea of Luthor having access to the sort of technology that had to be contained in Kal-El's crystals. Kal-El kept his pack and Zander's close. Whitney sat on the ground and leaned against his, calmly watching the show.

Eventually, the man and his CN's drove off with their truck while Zander went hunting for a different vehicle for them to use. Chloe studied Pete, mouth curled in something like a smile, if you looked at it right. She came over and peered at him. Pete flushed, glaring back at her.

"I was kind of surprised that you helped out," Chloe said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Like I was going to let that jerk take our stuff," Pete said, snorting. "He didn't have a right to take the truck."

"Actually, he did," Whitney disagreed, rolling his eyes when Pete and Chloe glared at him. "Trust the former marine guys. He does have the right to claim vehicles and supplies like that, according to the law. Sucks and he didn't follow the rules properly, but he did have the right. I just wasn't going to give up my share of the profits on our salvage."

"Oh, you're in it for the money," Chloe said, looking disgusted.

"Well, I'm obviously not in it for the sex," Whitney snarled, glaring at both of them. "Because if I were, I'd be being gypped big time!"

"Lay a hand on me and I'll fucking kill you!" Pete snarled.

"You can keep your hands to yourself," Chloe said at the same time. "I am so not interested in you!"

"My point," Whitney said, shrugging.

"On your feet," Zander snapped, making them all turn. "I have a new truck. Not much of a truck, but it's better than walking."

They gathered up their stuff, taking down their tents, rolling up their bags and pulling on their weighty packs. Even Chloe had a big heavy pack, though hers seemed to be full of clothes and random electronics. When they saw the new truck, Whitney started swearing, Pete groaned, Chloe snorted in disgust, and Kal-El sighed quietly. It was the most battered old red pickup truck that Pete had ever seen. He wouldn't be surprised if the damn thing was literally held together by baling wire and duct tape.

"We're taking this thing?" Pete protested. "What the hell?"

"It's all I could find," Zander growled, the insane light reappearing in his eyes. "Suck it up and get in the back."

"Shotgun!" Chloe called, beating Whitney to it. She stuck her tongue out at Whitney when he glared.

The truck turned out to be not as uncomfortable as expected. Kal-El arranged things so that Pete and Whit ended up snuggled in makeshift seats made of the packs, tents, and the sleeping bags. Kal-El rode near the hatch, looking out over the landscape with a fascinated expression. Pete listened to Whitney's continuous stream of grumbled complaints, smiling at Kal-El. It was odd. He'd always tried to make Kal-El into this strange, dangerous alien in his mind, something that could never be understood or trusted. But he was sweet, kind, gentle, and even without speaking, the nicest person that Pete had ever met. Kal-El was the sort of person that Pete would have done pretty much anything for, just because he was such a wonderful person to know.

Kal-El looked back at them, frowning slightly at Pete's gaze. Pete checked that Whitney was looking out over the shattered landscape of a town that had been razed before turning back to Kal-El and winking. Kal-El started slightly before grinning at Pete. It was a smile that lit up the world, warmed the heart, and made you believe that it was possible for people to actually be that good.

+++++

The checkpoint came out of nowhere. Lex growled to Chloe, who looked equally worried and intent. They'd been comparing notes on what to expect between here and Pittsburg. Chloe had gone through a lot more recently than Lex had, and she hadn't seen anything like this.

"It's got to be a trap for us," Lex said, knuckles going white on the steering wheel of their junker truck.

"Duh," Chloe said, "So what do we do? Fight our way through?"

"With that many constructs?" Lex said, jerking his chin at them. There were about 50 constructs guarding the checkpoint, all armed with the latest guns and equipment.

"Ah, no," Chloe said, going rather pale. "Not a good idea. Can CK do anything?"

"Too weak yet," Lex said, lips going thin as they were waved closer. Three other trucks were in front of them. Each one was made to get out of their vehicle, submit to a search, provide their paperwork, and answer questions before they were allowed to go on. Fortunately, there weren't any other vehicles behind Lex's truck.

"Move forward," the man in charge of the checkpoint yelled, waving to Lex.

"Fuck!" Lex and Chloe said at once. They both recognized Van McNulty. Chloe had grown up with him. Lex had worked with him for years before fighting him for the Resistance. There was no way in hell that they'd be able to bluff their way through this.

"So screwed," Chloe groaned, her head thumping back against the headrest on her seat.

"Let me deal with him," Lex said, "You get this truck through the checkpoint somehow. Clark will manage the CN's. They listen to him when he's close enough."

"Don't get killed!" Chloe snarled, glaring at him.

Lex snorted at her as he pulled the truck up, opened his door and climbed out. He tried to be as cocky, defiant and smirky as he possibly could. He had a reputation to uphold, after all. McNulty saw him, his face twisting in an evil smile. Chloe slid over into the driver's seat as the CN's all stiffened minutely before relaxing entirely, their hands loose on their guns. Lex noticed. McNulty didn't. He was focusing too hard on Lex. Lex smirked harder.

"I knew we'd catch you eventually, Lex," McNulty said smugly.

McNulty went for his gun, but Lex was faster, shooting McNulty's gun out of his hand. The CN's should have attacked the instant Lex went for his gun, but they stood like statues, watching them impassively. McNulty's two human subordinates gasped, hesitating before edging back carefully. Lex knew they had to be thinking that if Lex could make the CN's freeze, he might be able to make them attack their masters.

"Get him!" McNulty roared at the CN's. He stared at the CN's when they didn't move, not even blinking at the order.

"They won't attack me, Van," Lex said, strolling closer. He kept his gun trained on McNulty, feeling like his face was going to freeze in the sneer. "They know I'm just like them. They know what I am."

"What the hell are you then?" McNulty snarled, edging towards his gun until Lex glowered at him. "Some sort of fucking clone?"

"Yes," Lex said calmly. "Why do you think it took me so long to come back? Kal-El had to recreate me after my father's troops killed me. Fortunately, his process of creating clones is superior to my father's. I'm whole. The CN's aren't. But I'll fix that eventually. They'll be whole, as strong as Kal-El and free to fight. I know which side they'll choose. I know Kal-El and they're Kal-El's copies."

McNulty and the other two humans both went white at Lex's lies. They were just wild enough that they were believable, especially given the nonsense that people believed about Kal-El. A little of the misinformation out there was stuff that Lex and Clark had cooked up, but most of it was the sort of wild speculation that people naturally invented when they wanted to gossip, but had no facts to go on.

McNulty whirled suddenly and kicked at Lex's gun. The heel of his boot just connected with the tip of Lex's gun, knocking it out of his hand. Lex didn't bother snarling. He went on the offensive, attacking McNulty with everything he had. He had to clear the way for Chloe and the others to get through. He knew that Clark would run back for him if he got separated from the others. He knew the CN's wouldn't kill him. Lex managed to grab McNulty's arm. He used an Aikido throw to fling McNulty off to the side, out of the way of the truck.

"Go!" Lex bellowed at Chloe, diving after McNulty so that he wouldn't have time to take one of the CN's guns or go after his own gun.

Chloe floored the engine, screeching the tires as she peeled out. She roared through the CN's, not hesitating even as she approached their line of bodies. The CN's melted out of the way, not trying to stop them, but also not trying to help them. McNulty bellowed something incoherent as Lex landed on him. The battle between them was nasty, vicious, and ultimately very short. After a flurry of blows too fast to mentally register, Lex pulled a knife from his boot and cut McNulty open from breastbone to groin. McNulty gasped, blood welling out of his mouth as he scrambled to keep his guts where they belonged. Lex wiped his knife on McNulty's shoulder, and then stood, panting.

His gun was waiting a few paces away. Lex discovered a sprained ankle during those few paces. He discovered his broken ribs when he bent down to pick it up. He found the mild concussion when the stood back up and nearly collapsed from the headache it set off. He already knew about the black eye, split lip and broken nose. Lex ignored all his injuries as he turned back to McNulty.

"Goodbye Van," Lex said, pointing his gun and smirking at McNulty's whimper of terror.

Lex wished it were harder to kill people. It was so easy to pull the trigger and vaporize Van McNulty. It had always been far too easy for him to kill people, which was probably part of why he'd delayed so long in leaving his father's side. There was too much of his father inside of Lex for him to ever feel truly comfortable as one of the Good Guys. Lex felt nothing as he returned his gun to its holster: not tired, not ashamed, not sick, not happy, not sad, nothing. Death was just death. It bothered him when others dealt death, but never when that death came at Lex's hands.

"W-what are you going to do?" Van's subordinate stammered, trembling as Lex turned to follow the truck.

"Catch up with them, of course," Lex said, shrugging. "I'll let the CN's go once I'm back with the others."

He hobbled away, doing his best not to let the limp show. The CN's moved out of his way, one of them flicking a finger to point out a motorcycle to Lex. Lex grinned and walked over to it, taking the bike for himself.

"Bye now!" Lex called, grinning wickedly at the humans. "Try to survive failing to capture me."

He chuckled at the human's whimpers of fear but frowned at the CN's sad, resigned expressions. He'd never seen them show so much emotion before, and chalked it up to Clark's influence on them. Lex stopped the motorcycle, sighing. He couldn't see something that looked so much like Clark with that sort of expression on their faces. He pulled out his gun, killing both of the humans.

"There," Lex said. "Now you didn't have anyone to give you orders so of course you couldn't capture me. Hopefully that will help."

The apparent lead of the CN's blinked, looking at the scorch marks that had been the humans, then back at Lex. He sighed, shaking his head at Lex sadly. Lex shrugged, put his gun away, and drove off, following the road to catch up with Chloe, Clark and the others. He wasn't going to let the look of dismay on that face that so matched Clark's make him feel guilty. The world was at war, and a quick, painless death was a hell of a lot better than what Lionel or Jason would have done to the men.

Besides, it certainly wasn't the first time Lex had done what had to be done, despite Clark's disapproval. He did what he did for Clark's sake, ever since he'd given up being his father's heir and turned his back on his dark side. Unfortunately, his dark side wasn't something he could escape from easily.

+++++

"What happened here?" Jason mused, studying the waiting CN's, the tire marks, and the three scorches on the pavement.

"I've got a limited feed from the cam on the flyer," one of the soldiers called. "It wasn't pointed at the heart of the action, and the sound is horrible. The microphone appears to be defective on this flyer. I've only got isolated bits of sound that's intelligible, even with enhancement."

"Show me," Jason said, going to the screen.

Lex. It was Lex, in perfect health, with not a scar on him other than the ancient one on his lip. He'd gotten out of a battered truck, fought McNulty, and apparently had killed him. The camera hadn't seen that part, being focused in the wrong spot. The only sound that came through clearly was a snippet of Lex's about being a clone of the original Lex, and something about controlling the CN's.

"Replay that!" Jason snapped, going on high alert.

He listened to it a half-dozen times before deciding he had heard it right. Lex had been cloned by Kal-El and could control the CN's for a time. He looked out at the constructs surrounding McNulty and Jason's flyers, his stomach roiling in something like fear. This had to be reported back to Lionel and Genevieve. They had to know what he'd just discovered!

Jason spent the entire flight back to Metropolis trying to enhance the sound on the recording enough that he could understand what Lex had said. The best he got was Lex saying _"They wo…tack me, V… I'm just like th…know wha…am."_

He was followed by McNulty snarling _"…the hell are y…fucking clone?"_

Lex was calm as he replied, though his words were broken in the recording. _"Yes…Kal-El … recreate me … superior to…whole . The CN's …'ll be whole…Kal-El … fight… they'll choose…Kal-El."_

Lionel was impassive as Jason replayed the recording for them a few hours later. Genevieve kept tapping an index finger against her top lip, only the faintest hint of a frown on her face. Gwillam McFie, the head of the construct design department, was sweating so badly that his shirt was soaked, his hands were shaking, and he stank of fear.

"Why weren't we informed of this?" Jason demanded, making the man flinch.

"I-it was just a theoretical possibility," McFie protested, waving Jason's glare and Lionel's cold look off. "We're certain that the surgery and training we give the constructs prevents it from happening."

"I'd say that your theoretical possibility is quite real," Lionel said, watching the recording as it replayed. "They're clearly being influenced, presumably by Lex."

"It doesn't really matter," McFie whimpered, voice quavering.

"We have more than 74,000 constructs out there," Jason growled, thumping the table hard enough that a patch of wet appeared at McFie's crotch, "who could be controlled by the Resistance. They could be used as spies without having to say a word, and you think that this doesn't matter?"

Lionel winced at the thought, looking at the impassive CN's surrounding them. McFie also looked at them, getting very pale. Jason was glad that they were thinking, finally. He'd been unable to think of anything else the whole time he'd been flying back. Their unstoppable, incorruptible army might be more of a liability than a strength if this were true.

"Wait," Genevieve said quietly as Jason got ready to yell again. She rewound the recording, going back farther than Jason had. "Look. Lex had a construct with him. I've read the technical specs on the constructs. Lex would only be able to influence his own constructs, not Kal-El's. This," she tapped the image of the construct, "must be Kal-El, not a construct. He influenced the constructs, not Lex. Lex simply claimed it to throw McNulty off balance."

"That doesn't change the fact that that," Jason stabbed a finger at the CN impassively watching them, "could be a spy for the Resistance!"

"B-b-but the effect is supposed to be strictly limited," the design head protested weakly, "and blocked by the surgeries and training. It can't communicate at a distance with Kal-El. None of the models showed any long-term or long-distance effect."

"We need Lex and Kal-El, Jason," Lionel said, laying a hand on Jason's shoulder. "Get back to Pittsburg. Make sure that Queen doesn't allow Lex and Kal-El to escape. That's the most important thing you can possibly do. Take whatever weapons and soldiers you need, but capture them. Capture them both."

"Yes, sir!" Jason said, snapping to attention.

"Do your best, my dear," Genevieve said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I have complete faith in your ability to capture them."

"Thank you, Mother," Jason said, hugging her tight as his heart warmed to hear her say that about him.

He strode out, leaving McFie to Lionel and Genevieve's tender mercies. If the man survived the encounter it would be a miracle. Lex contacted Oliver Queen as he was driven to the flyer. It took a minute for Queen to come to the phone, and he sounded pissed once he was on the line. Jason didn't care. The man was useful, but you needed to keep him on a tight leash.

"What?" Queen snapped, his anger clear over the phone.

"Lex and Kal-El should be entering Pittsburg anytime now," Jason told him. "Once you capture them, do not guard them with constructs. Use humans only."

"Are you out of your mind?" Queen asked, astonishment in his voice. "The constructs are a thousand times more reliable than humans, especially where Lex is concerned."

"But not where Kal-El is concerned," Jason said grimly. "We just got some information that Kal-El might be able to influence them when he's close to them. We can't risk him subverting the constructs, so guard him yourself, and only use humans to deal with them."

"Damn," Queen breathed, "you're sure about that?"

"Completely," Jason said. "I'll be there in an hour or so. Be careful with them. They're the most dangerous people on the planet right now."

"Understood," Queen said. "See you soon, then."

He hung up about the time Jason pulled up at the flyer. Its equipment was being checked so that there wouldn't be any more lost information, should there be another encounter with Lex and Kal-El. The technician said that it would be another twenty minutes before he could leave. Jason growled and the technician lowered the estimate to fifteen minutes.

"Make sure it all works," Jason growled. "That's more important than hurrying and botching the job."

"Yes, sir!"

Jason sighed, rubbing his forehead. Queen better not fuck up capturing Lex and Kal-El. Too much was riding on their capture.

+++++

It was amazing how you could misjudge someone, Oliver thought as he watched the video feeds from all the security cameras covering Pittsburgh's streets. He'd know back at Excelsior that Lex was a bit of a nut. Anyone related to the ever-so-wonderful ruler of the world Lionel Luthor had to be, but Oliver would never have thought that weak little Lex would turn out to such a lethal bastard when he grew up.

Jason Teague was the consummate heir to Lionel's rule, but Lex was the one who truly exemplified what Lionel stood for. There didn't appear to be anything that Lex couldn't destroy. The security forces in Pittsburgh had been doing a fairly good job keeping the Resistance from destroying the Line until three hours ago, about the time Oliver had arrived in the city at Jason's command. The Resistance had begun a major attack on the city's defenses, trying to destroy the Dallas Avenue wall. The constructs did a lovely job fighting them off, though Oliver lost about a third of them in the battle.

Then an hour ago, the wall along the Allegheny River had been attacked. Four huge explosions caused four incredible breaches in the defenses along the Strip District. The explosions had been strong enough that the river had been vaporized and the water went in a tidal wave up and down river, causing huge amounts of destruction. The bridge had been spared, letting Lex's group scurry into the city. By the time Oliver's troops got there, they'd been long gone, hidden in the heart of the city.

"There," Oliver said, tapping one screen and making the tech nod as he zoomed in on the scene. "Yeah, that's Lex. Interesting, that's Chloe Sullivan with him, and probably Kal-El. They must have abandoned their truck. Makes sense given how few streets were left that you can use a truck on."

Their party was climbing one of the many stairs that Pittsburgh used as streets, heading up a hill as they went in a generally eastward direction. Lex had a hat on, but Oliver knew him instantly from the years at Excelsior, as well as encountering him in Metropolis many times before Lex abandoned his destiny. Chloe was well known to everyone from all the destruction she caused to Lionel's forces, though Oliver had never met her personally. Kal-El was gorgeous, despite being in scruffy clothes while carrying a huge backpack.

"That's them," Oliver confirmed, directing his men over the radio to capture the three of them. "They've gotten quite a ways through the city, all the way to North Oakland. Make sure to use the kryptonite before going in to take them. Both Lex and Chloe are to be considered so armed and dangerous that you're likely to be dead if you confront them by yourself. I want them as intact as possible, but I will not tolerate their getting away. Damage is to be kept to a minimum."

"Why not have constructs do it?" one of the men grumped over the radio.

"Can't use kryptonite to stop Kal-El if we do that," Oliver explained. "The constructs are just as vulnerable to it as Kal-El is. I think I'd rather fight humans than the alien. Quit complaining and remember the size of the rewards on their heads."

The security cameras showed them what happened. Oliver's men fired refined kryptonite nuggets into the crowd that Lex and Chloe were hiding in. Kal-El gasped and collapsed to his knees, making Lex catch him, trying to support him. Chloe instantly pulled out weapons, spotting and firing on the soldiers that rushed at them. The surrounding civilians scattered, screaming in terror. Lex tried to throw the kryptonite away, to restore Kal-El's strength, but Oliver's men kept firing more in, preventing his restoration. Kal-El apparently passed out, collapsing to the street, surrounded by brightly glowing green rocks. Lex seemed to go crazy, pulling more weapons than Oliver had known a person could carry while still being able to walk. Between them, Chloe and Lex held off Oliver's forces for nearly 25 minutes, despite the tear gas that Olli's men fired in. They demolished all the houses surrounding them for nearly three blocks. Eventually, they ran out of ammunition, their gas masks failed, and they were overwhelmed by Oliver's troops.

"Bring them to the command center in Bloomfield," Oliver commanded, nodding in satisfaction. "Make sure to tuck one of those meteor rocks into Kal-El's clothes. I don't want him waking up and freeing the others."

Once they were delivered and secured in one of the cells, Oliver nodded in satisfaction as he reviewed the contents of his captives' pockets and packs. Plenty of ammunition, lots of weapons, a couple of spare pairs of clothes for each of them and a fair amount of freeze-dried food, there was nothing unexpected. Jason had called to let Oliver know that his flyer was being repaired and that he'd be there once it was fixed. Oliver sighed, studying the three of them through the one-way mirror. Chloe looked heartbroken and worried sick about Kal-El. Lex had such a good stone face on that Oliver wasn't sure what he was thinking. But it was Kal-El that made Oliver wonder. He looked so ill, like the meteor rock was poisoning him, but he also looked happy, resigned, almost at peace. That peaceful expression in the middle of being transported back to be dissected to death made Oliver's curiosity claw at him until he couldn't resist it anymore.

"I'm going to question them," Oliver told his second-in-command, John. "Let me know the instant Jason's in the air."

"Yes, sir! Should we record this?"

"And risk getting in trouble with the Luthors if it's classified?" Oliver asked, raising an eyebrow at the man. "Nothing doing. In fact, don't listen to this at all. No reason for you to be fried with me if this is a mistake."

"Thank you, sir!" His second and the other soldiers pulled out into the next room, there if Oliver needed them, but far enough away that they wouldn't be compromised if Ollie really were cutting his own throat. You never knew when dealing with the Luthors. Ollie had nearly gotten himself killed so many times that he'd lost count.

"Queen," Lex said impassively as Oliver came into the room.

"Lex," Oliver said, quirking his lips in something that might be a smile if you looked at it kindly.

He'd never trusted or liked Lex, not when they were at school together, not once they had to work together, not once Lex had joined the Resistance, and certainly not now. It didn't matter that Oliver felt a large measure of respect for the man—their mutual history wasn't going to go away, and Ollie wasn't just about to admit to his secret activities in one of Lionel's command centers. God only knew how many bugs the place had, though Ollie's equipment should have notified him it he were being actively recorded.

"I should have known it would be you," Lex said. "No surprise that you would be in charge of this pit, or that you'd use such dirty tricks to capture us."

"No surprise that you're trying to destroy everything in sight instead of trying to make the world a better place by helping people in need," Oliver snapped, nostrils flaring at Lex's scorn. "There are better ways to help people than by blowing the world up, Lex!"

"He's just a CK!" Chloe declared, interrupting their familiar pattern of banter and loathing. She nodded at Kal-El. "You don't have to torture him that way! You'll kill him if you keep that meteor rock so close to him."

"I already know that he's Kal-El, Chloe," Oliver said, going and taking the meteor rock from Kal-El's pocket. He backed off a couple steps, far enough that Kal-El stopped panting and sighed with relief. "You've all been identified. I'm just holding you until Teague arrives to take you back to Mr. Luthor."

Kal-El sighed with relief as Ollie stepped back. He shook his head, still looking ill but not like he was about to stop breathing. He smiled sweetly at Oliver, making Oliver's heart and stomach both flip. Kal-El looked like he'd already won, not like he'd lost.

"Thank you," Kal-El said, "I was having a hard time breathing with that thing on my chest."

"Why are you so happy?" Oliver asked, his stomach crawling inside of his belly.

"We've already won." Kal-El shrugged, making all three of them stare at him.

"They're already through the line?" Lex asked, apparently astonished.

"Mmm-hmm," Kal-El said, grinning at Lex. It transformed his face, making him far more beautiful than he had been, and much more boyish. "And you didn't trust Pete and Whit to do the job."

"I didn't think they'd manage it either," Chloe said, voice and face full of shock. "I'm astonished they could stop bickering long enough to do something worthwhile."

"Wait," Oliver said, feeling utterly lost, "what in the world are you talking about?"

Kal-El turned back to him, eyes warm, kind, loving and full of forgiveness. Oliver quite literally staggered. It was frightening how powerful Kal-El's gaze was. Oliver wondered in a tiny part of his heart that he'd carefully kept from being destroyed all these years if this was what it was like to have your father gaze at you, see your failures, and still be proud of you.

"We're the decoys," Kal-El said calmly. "I could have gotten Lex and I back to Gotham in a matter of minutes if I really pushed myself."

"You would have hurt yourself," Lex growled, glaring at Kal-El. "Jason's cannon took too much out of you!"

"I still could have done it," Kal-El said, chuckling at Lex. "I just would have had to rest once I got there. I couldn't do it while carrying the crystals from the Fortress, though. Their interactions with the magnetic fields of the planet would have pulled at me too much, slowing me down. We had to go by surface vehicle, and we had to go relatively slowly."

"C-crystals?" Oliver interrupted, stomach clenching. He was so screwed if what Kal-El was saying was true, but he couldn't believe that this open, kind, apparently gentle being was lying to him. He didn't think Kal-El could lie to save his life.

"Yes," Kal-El nodded. "Before we destroyed the Fortress, we took the crystals that would let us rebuild it in Gotham, allowing us to combine the Fortress with our defenses there. That will let us key the Fortress to my children, the constructs, allowing us to free them, heal them, and let them control the weapons of the Fortress. It was keyed only to Lex and me before it was destroyed. Once the Fortress rises again, my children will be free and Lionel will fall. It doesn't matter if the three of us die, as long as the constructs are freed, so that they can free humanity. It should be pretty simple for the CN's to purge Zod from Lionel. There's too many of them for him to be able to stop them all."

"Zod?" Oliver squeaked, his knees giving out on him. He thumped to the floor, staring at Kal-El. This was his enemy? This person who was going to sacrifice himself to save the world? This man who calmly explained that he'd planned to die just so his 'children' could be free to save a race that had enslaved them?

"Yes, Zod," Kal-El said, looking at Oliver's knees with a bit of worry. "My homeworld wasn't perfect, you know. It was destroyed. General Zod was a terrible man, a lot like Lionel, who tried to take over the world and remake it in his image. It ended in the complete destruction of our planet and sun. My father, Jor-El, sent me to Earth, since there was a long history of interaction between my homeworld and Earth, and I had a good chance of blending in here. I was a baby. I grew up here on Earth, not realizing for years what I was. Lionel found my spaceship the day I landed, in a field near Smallville, Kansas. When he opened it a couple of years later, it infected him with a virus that took him over. He became Zod, reborn in a human form. He's not truly human anymore, and hasn't been for decades. He's the Kryptonian General Zod, with a different face and name, carrying out his mad plan on a new world."

"Clark!" Chloe groaned, rolling her eyes. "Why do you tell people these things? They never believe you!"

"I do," Oliver whispered, staring at Kal-El. He noted the name 'Clark' but ignored it for now. "I do believe you. I've seen how different he is. I knew him before the meteor shower and afterwards he was a totally different person. You knew?"

Lex shrugged at Oliver's demand.

"I knew he changed," Lex said, "but I didn't know why or how until a year or so after I joined the Resistance. It took us that long to piece it all together. He never used his powers publicly, always claimed to me that it was something that Genevieve gave him, or things he'd gained from his experiments."

"Oh Good God, he has powers?" Oliver asked, going white.

"Much the same powers that I do," Kal-El said, nodding. "Not sure that he has the same weakness, though."

He nodded at the chunk of kryptonite in Oliver's hand. Oliver stared at it, the glow emanating from deep within the chunk of rock. He set it down in front of his knees and pushed himself to his feet, being careful about standing as his feet were tingling a bit from kneeling for that long. Kal-El watched him with a vaguely puzzled expression. Chloe and Lex looked at him with suspicion. Oliver didn't care. He gazed at Kal-El, memorizing that beautiful face in a way he'd never done before, despite being surrounded by Kal-El's 'children' every day.

"Clark?" Oliver asked, frowning faintly.

"I was raised as Clark Kent of Smallville, Kansas," Kal-El said, grinning impishly at Oliver. "My human parents didn't know what I was, but they knew I was different. They didn't let me interact with people most of my life. I was home schooled, and stayed almost entirely on the farm. It wasn't until I met Lex that I started interacting with people. He's the one that opened up my life."

"Just like you saved me from my destiny," Lex said with a surprisingly tender smile.

They shared a look that spoke of love that Oliver couldn't imagine, much less comprehend. Oliver nodded and left the room, going to his second in command. He pulled him aside, already determined to do what had to be done. He'd hated being who he was, where he was for years. He'd fought secretly against Lionel's policies, argued with him publicly on occasion (and nearly died for it multiple times), and eventually had taken to his own brand of resistance. He even had a few followers of his own, though not many since they kept getting killed off, except for one.

"Little John," Oliver murmured in his ear, "we've got a mission."

John straightened slightly, eyes widening for a second before he nodded seriously.

"Tell me what to do, Robin," John replied, fighting against letting a wicked smile appear on his lips.

"We have three people to rescue," Oliver said, "less than twenty minutes to rescue them in, and an evil overlord's heir is about to land on us. Get the CN's. I want them to escort our 'guests'. The soldiers are to be sent to clear a path to the fighting along Dallas Avenue. Hurry."

John's eyes flicked to the room where Kal-El and the others were being held. He had to know that Oliver was switching sides, but he didn't question it. He'd been trying to convince Ollie to defect for years. He just nodded, smiled, and saluted before hurrying off to clear the way for Oliver to save Kal-El, Lex, and Chloe. It took three minutes to clear the immediate area, during which Oliver got the call that Jason was on his way. It would take him 14 minutes to get from Metropolis to Pittsburgh.

"Come on," Oliver said, striding back into the room with his Little John at his back. "We don't have a lot of time."

They undid the restraints on Kal-El and his friends, and Oliver put the chunk of kryptonite into a lead box. Kal-El looked unsurprised. Chloe was spluttering and asking a million incoherent questions. Lex looked grim but excited.

"How long?" Lex asked, nearly vibrating as he stood, helping Kal-El to his feet.

"Thirteen minutes, 27 seconds and counting," Oliver said, checking his watch.

They ran through the command center, every heartbeat bringing them that much closer to being stopped by Jason and his forces. The CN's had the most excitement that he'd ever seen as they reached the military truck they were taking to the Line. They all beamed to see Kal-El, looking like children seeing their father for the first time in ages. Kal-El beamed back at them, nodding firmly. They all went serious again, faces going still as a normal construct's face.

"You really can communicate with them," Oliver said, awed.

"I always know what's happening to them," Kal-El said, wincing at Lex's gasp of horror. "I couldn't tell you, Lex. You would have refused to fight them and then everything would have been lost. You needed to be able to fight them with a clear conscience."

"You know perfectly well that I can kill without the slightest qualms," Lex growled.

"But Chloe, Bruce and the others can't," Kal-El insisted, getting into the truck. "You'd have told them and then they'd have been crippled too. Besides, you do have a horrible time killing the constructs. They look like me."

"Argue about it later," Oliver snapped, climbing into the driver's seat. "We've only got nine minutes!"

The drive across town through the cleared streets was insane. Oliver was glad that he was driving, because if anyone else had done it he would have shot the driver for trying to kill him. He lost track of how many buildings he careened into, and he was grateful for the CN's keeping his passengers safe from being battered to pieces. He could practically feel every second that passed like it was a day taken out of his life. They had nearly made it to the wall (at 0:37 left to Jason's arrival) when a blast erupted from the soldiers guarding the line. It hit the engine of the truck, exploding the engine. Oliver lost control and was sure that they were going to die, but the constructs waiting along the line caught the truck, keeping them from tipping over and crashing.

Oliver found himself pulled out of the truck's cab, set on his feet and then propelled towards the gap in the wall. John was right behind him, bleeding from some cuts from flying debris. None of them looked serious to Oliver in his half-second glance, so he didn't worry about John. Chloe looked a little shaken, but she had pulled guns from somewhere and was firing back at the soldiers. Lex was firing as well, using his strange crystal-and-plastic gun that created explosion like large grenades going off. It was Kal-El that made Oliver stop in his tracks.

He was standing by the destroyed truck, watching a flyer swoop in from the south.

"Go!" Lex bellowed, shoving Oliver towards the break in the walls along the Line. "Damn it, Ollie, move your ass!"

"But—!"

"He's the only one who can fight Jason!" Lex bellowed, flinching as a barrage of gunfire hit them.

The constructs picked up both Lex and Oliver, carrying them towards the Resistance forces visible on the other side of the line. John was down, a bullet through his forehead. Chloe was firing at Ollie's former soldiers from the arms of the CN carrying her. Lex's wounds didn't look too bad, and within a second of being picked up he was firing on their enemies. Ollie wished he had their resilience, but he couldn't get a breath in because of all the blood suddenly clogging his lungs. He looked down at his chest, blinking in surprise at the hole there, and a puddle of blood forming in a fold of his uniform.

As he started graying out, Oliver looked back over the shoulder of his CN, seeing Jason leap out of the flyer in mid-air. Jason looked different, more like Kal-El, strong, invulnerable, and faster than anything should ever be. He charged at the waiting Kal-El, the proverbial Unstoppable Force meeting the Immovable Object. Ollie tried to gasp some sort of warning, but his lungs failed him, and the world went away just as Kal-El and Jason's battle began.

+++++

"I can't fucking believe we're doing this," Whitney muttered as Pete maneuvered their truck through the crowded Pittsburg street that led towards Schenley Park, where Chloe said they'd meet their Resistance contact and get through the Line. "I can't believe you're doing this!"

"What?" Pete snapped, glaring at him. "You think I'd give up and go back to prison? No fucking way!"

"Yeah, but trying to do this?" Whitney hooked a thumb at the packs of crystals in the back of the truck. "It's way out of character for someone like you."

Pete growled at him, driving their truck out onto the less-crowded main thoroughfare that led through the city. They blended into the many other cars and trucks that were trying to escape the destruction along the east and west side of the city. Fortunately, they were heading more or less south, so they weren't going against the flow of traffic.

"You know," Pete grumbled, "you might not have the most accurate image of me."

"Sure," Whitney drawled, "you're a real prince, Pete. Carving up baby aliens and enslaving them, yeah that's the mark of a good person."

Pete nearly hauled off and punched Whitney. The only reason he didn't was because a car swerved in front of them, cutting them off. Pete swore, more at Whitney than the car, but it helped bleed off a little of his fury before he answered. Once he'd calmed a tiny bit, Pete glanced at Whitney out of the corner of his eye.

"That's not how it happened," Pete growled. "I got fucking conscripted into the design program against my will. It was do it or get my fucking head blown off and get my family killed, dude. Besides, all I ever did until the CK's was analyze computer models of DNA. I didn't design them, I didn't grow them, and I sure has hell never did any of the 'training'."

"What changed?" Whitney asked, eyes challenging as he watched Pete drive. The scorn was clear even though Pete wasn't looking at him.

"The CK's."

Pete hated talking about it, so he wasn't going to until Whitney made him. Pete drove in silence for almost five full minutes. Whitney squirmed, fidgeted, huffed, glared at Pete, opened his mouth to say something and then shut it about a dozen times. Eventually he growled, and turned to Pete.

"So what the hell happened with the CK's?"

"They're…people, Whit," Pete said, his knuckles going white on the steering wheel. He stared straight ahead, unable to meet Whitney's eyes. Fortunately they were stopped in traffic or he might have gotten them killed in an accident. "Before the CK's their genetics were deliberately altered prior to conception so that they would have brains that couldn't form thought. They were animals in human-like form. The CK's were allowed to be people, about ten years old mentally. The CL's were such a cluster-fuck that they were scrapped before they were implemented. The CM's and CN's have normal adult brains. They're people, just like you and me, or at least they were until their brains were cut to ribbons, and they were tortured into obedience. I couldn't do it. I couldn't be a part of enslaving a race of people. I couldn't do what was done to my ancestors, to the Jews in Germany. So I fought, got caught, and got thrown in prison."

"Shit," Whitney breathed, his voice both awed and disgusted at the same time. "Then…they're not just flesh robots?"

"No," Pete declared, fighting his stomach. He couldn't throw up all over the steering wheel, especially since traffic was moving again. Thank God, Whitney didn't keep sniping at him or try to make him talk about it as they finally managed to make it to the South Oakland neighborhood they were heading for. It took a bit to get them onto the right street, with some circling and backtracking when they missed their turn. They were both twitchy by the time they found the big purple house that they were supposed to meet their contact at.

"Took too long," Whitney muttered as Pete pulled into the garage of the house. "We were supposed to be through the line within thirty minutes. It's been forty-five, Pete."

"I know!" Pete snapped at him, turning off the engine. "Like you were much help navigating!"

They bickered until a cute young woman (who looked no more than twenty-five to Pete—what the hell was she doing with the Resistance anyway?) appeared at the door with a couple of burly guys behind her.

"Hey, you made it!" she enthused, coming over to give both of them big hugs that were highly effective pat-downs. "So glad! With all the chaos we weren't sure you'd make it. We're just setting up the barbeque in the back. Let's get your stuff inside and we'll have some beer."

"Ah, thanks," Pete said, blushing a little from the hug.

"Sure thing!" Whitney said, grinning and giving her an extra squeeze that had her giggling and one of the burly guys glaring at Whitney.

"Lay off the cuddles," Pete growled, elbowing Whitney. Whitney followed Pete's nod at the guy who glared like he wanted to gut Whitney and sighed, looking heartbroken. "You'll live."

They carried the backpacks inside, joking and laughing like old friends. Pete thought it might help that Whitney and the burly guy were posturing over the girl like old rivals for the same girl. At least, none of the people on the street seemed to notice them at all. Pete tried hard not to notice them either, but it was difficult knowing what was really going on.

"Excellent," the girl said, all business once they were safely inside and the door was shut. "I don't think anyone out there has a clue."

"Thank God," Pete breathed, letting out a huge sigh.

"What the hell is in these packs?" the grumpy burly guy asked, still glaring at Whitney. "They weigh a ton!"

"The Fortress of Kal-El," Pete said, making everyone except Whitney gasp. They stared. "We've got to get these crystals to the other side of the Line in the next…" Pete checked his watch timer. "Ten minutes, tops. We have to be across the Line before Chloe and the others get caught."

"Holy shit," the girl breathed, eyes like saucers. "Right, let's get going then. This is going to be tough, and we can't do it with them in these packs. Too heavy for the normal methods, I'm afraid. Are they safe to touch?"

"They only react to Kal-El and constructs," Pete said, reasonably certain that he was right. "Maybe to Lex Luthor, too, but he's not here. It should be safe to repackage them. What have you got?"

They scrambled and found some bags and a couple of different smaller packs to put the crystals in, ending up with six sets of them instead of four. Whitney was watching Pete closely and finally managed to grab him for a quick private word while they were sorting the crystals out.

"How the hell do you know that?" Whitney whispered urgently. "About the crystals?"

"Logical, dude," Pete said, shrugging. "If we could use them, Zander would never in a million years have left us alone with them, much less sent us off with them by ourselves. It has to be just Kal-El or the constructs."

"Oh," Whitney said, blinking blankly before nodding slowly. "Okay, yeah, that is obvious."

Pete's watch said they had about three minutes left when a huge explosion rocked the house. By the time he stood, pulling on his new backpack, sirens were going off. Kal-El, Chloe and Zander had to have been spotted. Nothing else would have set off this sort of chaos.

"Hurry!" the girl (whose name had turned out to be Alicia) said, "we've got to get you guys out of here."

She grabbed one of the bags and suddenly there was a flash of green light. The bag stayed where it was. Alicia disappeared, then reappeared her cursing worse than Whitney or Pete at their most peevish or terrified.

"I can't teleport the crystals!" Alicia cried, looking a little panicked.

"Then we'll have to get them across the old fashioned way," the surly grumpy guy (whose name was Geoff). "Down to the tunnels, quick as we can."

They went to the basement, then into a series of tunnels concealed in a corner under the freezer. The tunnels twisted and turned, joining up to the sewer system, and then ran down to the river. Alicia dropped her bag, disappeared in a flash of green light, reappearing on the river sitting in a speedboat. Geoff hurried them into the boat, joining them while the third burly guy pushed them off. He disappeared in a rush of sand, flowing away in an instant.

"Are all Resistance members freaks?" Pete asked, watching all around them for soldiers. He'd really hate to be killed just as he was getting free.

"Nope," Alicia said, watching the shores just as much as Pete was. "The contacts for people escaping normally are. We're able to get in and out because of our abilities, so we're good for doing contact work. There are normal people doing it too. Today it's because everyone else is busy dealing with the attack on the Line. "

They were already through the wall, Pete realized, staring back at it while his heart tried to pound its way out of his chest. They started up the river, Geoff steering through the rapids, submerged debris and rocks. He went at a careful, reasonable speed, dodging all the stuff under the water as if he did this every day. Pete supposed that he might, but the white of his knuckles and the terror in his face made Pete think that this was something very new to him, or something was very wrong.

"How far?" Geoff demanded of Alicia, flinching as someone on the wall started shouting.

"Not much farther!" Alicia said, pointing to a flashing light maybe a quarter mile up the river. "That's them. Keep going!"

Pete and Whitney both pulled guns as the shouting on the wall escalated. They were so fucking exposed on the river, but it didn't matter. They couldn't get to Resistance territory if they didn't get past the wall and out of the no-man's zone along it. Granted, there were probably a thousand ways if you knew the right people and had plenty of time, but they didn't have time for anything other than the most direct route.

"Damn it!" Geoff shouted as the soldiers on the wall started firing.

Pete and Whit both started firing back, doing their best not to rock the boat. Bullets whizzed by and pinged off of their metal boat, punching holes that sprayed water in places. Pete could hear explosions from across town, ones like the explosions that Zander's crystal gun set off. The sirens were wailing. The soldiers were shouting. Geoff was cursing nonstop under his breath as he desperately piloted them through the maze of debris that Pete suddenly realized wasn't debris at all. It was submerged bombs and devices designed to destroy any boat going up the river to freedom.

"I'll stop them!" Alicia shouted, disappearing in a flash of green light.

There were flashes of light up on the wall, followed by screams as Alicia apparently killed the soldiers. Pete had no idea what she was doing, but it was doing some good. The hail of bullets from the wall decreased and then suddenly stopped. Alicia reappeared in the boat just as they passed through the last of the bombs and moved into clear water. The water in the bottom of their boat kept rising, reaching the top of Pete's boots already. He really hoped they'd make it to the dock without having to swim.

Pete looked back and stared as a man's head appeared. He winked at Pete and then ducked under the water. A wash of bubbles shot past their boat. Pete whirled, mouth dropped open, spotting the same man getting out of the water along a little dock hidden by a huge chunk of fallen concrete. They'd be safe once they were behind it.

"Thanks, AC!" Geoff called as they docked the boat that was rapidly sinking underneath him.

"No problem," AC replied, grabbing the bags of crystals and throwing them on the dock. "Better than letting these fall into Lionel's hands. Why were you going so slow?"

"Damned if I know!" Geoff said, exasperated. "I had the engine maxed the whole way. It was like something was slowing us down, dragging at us."

Pete and Whitney exchanged looks before looking at the crystals.

"It's the crystals," Whitney said, pulling his pack on. "We kept wondering why we were driving so damned slow on the way to Pittsburgh. They must not allow themselves to be transported to quickly."

"Fuck," Geoff said, looking at the bags too. "Well, that would explain a lot, I guess."

"I'll head to Gotham," AC said, jumping back in the river. "Get those things to the main command as quick as you can, guys. I think this might be the most important mission we've ever had."

"It is," Pete and Whitney said at once.

+++++

Whitney was utterly relieved when they made it to the 'command center'. It turned out to be a bombed out building along the no-man's-land opposite the destroyed wall around Pittsburgh. Whitney didn't recognize most of the people there, but he sure as hell recognized their leader. Everyone knew Bruce Wayne, especially when he was in his black Batman suit. He didn't know who the two scary bitches next to him were, but Batman plus Amazon bitches with killer weapons and faces of ice made facing him a heck of a lot harder than he'd have liked.

"So," Wayne—no, Batman, that was definitely the Batman!—said, "you're the ones Lex and Kal-El adopted."

"Huh?" Whitney said at exactly the same moment as Pete. "Wait, Kal-El?"

"Lex?" Pete gasped. "Wait, you mean Zander is Lex fucking Luthor?"

They exchanged looks, which made everyone chuckle at them. Whitney shook his head hard, trying to get the confusion out, as if that was possible.

"You knew the CK was Kal-El?"

"You didn't?" Pete asked, astonished. "God, Whit. Where the hell are your brains? Of course he was Kal-El. Nobody but a flaming moron would think that guy was a CK!"

"You didn't figure out that Zander was Lex," Whitney snapped, glaring down at Pete. "You can't claim loads of brains on your side, asshole."

They both stiffened, getting ready for one of their normal brawls, only to be cut off by Batman's icy voice.

"That's enough," Batman said, making Whitney flinch and Pete cringe. "What have you brought us?"

"The Fortress of Kal-El," Pete said, pulling his pack off and thumping it down on the rickety table they'd laid maps out on. "It's all in crystals, but it's here. You need to get this back to Gotham as quick as possible. That's not going to be very fucking fast. We barely managed 45 miles an hour on the way here. I think that they don't like going fast, and I'm going to guess that they can't be flown or Kal-El would have flown them straight there. Maybe one of the CM's or CN's can help change that, but I doubt it. Kal-El would have done it if he could."

Batman studied Pete like he was an insect for a long moment, apparently gauging whether or not to believe his words. That lasted until a thoroughly crippled construct came over and gave him a huge hug, grinning at him. Pete blinked and then laughed, ruffling his hair.

"You're a real CK, aren't you, kiddo?" Pete said, grinning at the CK's enthusiastic nod. "Did I get all that right?"

The CK nodded. He looked like an overgrown child, despite the prosthetic arm, leg and eye patch.

"That's Cary," Batman said, looking a bit perplexed behind his mask. "Kal-El rescued him when the CK series was deactivated. I'm surprised that you can tell what model he was."

"I used to work in construct design before the CK's were destroyed," Pete said shame-facedly. "I know how to tell. And I know how they can communicate with Kal-El. Is he okay, Cary?"

Cary bit his lip, looking worried, afraid, and very reluctant to say anything, as if he could say anything. He was so different, so unlike Kal-El that it was nearly painful. This was a kid, not a man. A tortured, abused, crippled kid, Whitney sighed, rubbing his face. Pete was right. There was no way anyone that knew anything about CK's would ever believe Kal-El was one, and what Whitney had done to the other constructs was just as bad as anything Pete might have done. Maybe worse.

"They did get captured, right?" Whitney asked. "We heard the explosions. Have they escaped again?"

Cary nodded firmly, just as the mother of all explosions went off in Pittsburgh. Whitney abandoned the discussion and ran outside, staring back at the city. The others followed. The Wall and most of the debris was gone, letting them see what was happening. Apparently, a flyer had exploded, devastating the area. In the middle of the rapidly clearing smoke, Whitney could see Kal-El fighting with Jason Teague.

They moved so fast that Whitney couldn't see what they were doing, but every time they hit each other it was like a gunshot or explosion went off. He couldn't tell if one or the other had an advantage, and in the next second it didn't matter. A group of CN's ran up, carrying Lex, Chloe, and someone that Whitney had never thought he'd see again.

"Ollie!" Whitney shouted, running over. "God, what the hell happened?"

"He's been shot, what the hell do you think happened?" Lex snapped. "Are the crystals gone? Damn it, you were supposed to have gotten away from here long ago."

"They just got here," Batman said, striding over with his ice-queen bitches at his side.

"Lex!" the first one said, grabbing him and crushing Lex in a hug that made him laugh breathlessly as he returned it. She let him go and the second one slapped him hard enough to nearly knock him off his feet.

"Don't you ever do that again!" the second one snapped. "We thought you were dead, you idiot!"

"Sorry, Mercy," Lex laughed, rubbing his cheek. "Thanks, Hope. Now get those bloody crystals out of here!"

Pete ran over with the CK, Cary. Cary had a tiny crystal in his hand, and a worried expression on his face.

"Just give it a try," Pete was saying encouragingly. "If it works, then you can help people, Cary. If not, then it's okay. Either way, it's worth a try."

Cary looked at the CN's around them and they nodded, one of them patting him on the shoulder encouragingly. Cary took a deep breath, focused, and then set the tip of the crystal against the bloody hole in Ollie's chest. The crystal started to glow. After a second, the glow transferred to Oliver, filling the wound, and then covering Oliver's body.

"Ungh!" Ollie gasped, rolling on his side to start coughing the blood out of his lungs in great rasping gasps and hacks.

"It worked!" Pete shouted, hugging Cary. "The constructs can use the Fortress' crystals! You can heal the wounded, Cary!"

"Son of a bitch," Lex commented calmly. "And here I was hoping Ollie had finally kicked off. Oh, well. I'll just have kill him myself later."

"Lex," Batman scolded, his voice only mildly exasperated.

"After everything that son of a bitch put me through over the years," Lex said, with a completely unrepentant shrug, "I think he deserves to die."

Whitney let himself breath a sigh of relief about Ollie, before looking back at the battle between Kal-El and Jason. He looked at the CN's around him, then at the building full of Fortress Crystals.

"Well what are you guys waiting for?" Whitney said, jumping to his feet. "We got weapons for you in there that no one else can use and your "Daddy" is in danger! Get cracking and help him out!"

The CN's stared at him. Pete and Cary stared at him. Lex, Chloe, Bruce and the others stared at him. Then the CN's looked at each other and grinned so wickedly that Whitney wondered how the hell he could have ever thought that they were robots made of flesh. They were people, clearly people. The way he'd casually sent others of their race off to die made his stomach twist, but it didn't matter as the CN's darted back into the bombed out command center. They reappeared, three of them carrying a medium-sized crystal. They paused for a second while the fourth took Cary's crystal from him. He grinned at them nodding approval at whatever they were thinking. The CN's looked at each other, and then they were gone, running into battle against Jason so fast that they were just blurs and a whoosh of wind.

"Whit," Pete said, making him turn and look down where Pete was still kneeling by Ollie's side. "Sometimes you're fucking brilliant."

"Thank you," Whitney said, grinning at him. "Does that mean I'm going to get laid any time in the next century?"

Pete growled, making fists. Ollie finally stopped coughing up blood just as the CN's reached the battle. Everyone stopped to watch.

+++++

Clark could hear Jason's flyer getting closer the entire time that they were careening through the town. He let his children know that they were going to need help, touching their minds and hiding a grin at their delight. They were so glad that the time of hiding and suffering was almost over. There wouldn't be too many more that had to kill and die for the wrong side, thank goodness.

*We're waiting at the wall,* one of the CN's said, letting Clark know that most of them would be working to block the human soldiers. *We'll do our best to protect your friends!*

They did a great job, protecting the truck, blocking the soldiers without being too obvious about it. They didn't manage to keep the truck engine being blown up at the last minute, but that wasn't a big deal. The CN's had managed to protect everyone from being hurt, so that was fine.

*Get them out of here,* Clark told the CN's. *I'll guard your backs.*

*But--!*

*Jason's almost here,* Clark said firmly, *Go!*

They went. Jason's flyer swooped in like a giant hawk stooping on its prey. The cannons on the flyer made Clark stiffen. He could hear Jason commanding the pilot to start firing. Clark couldn't let them use the guns on the flyer! Clark squared his jaw, setting aside his squeamishness about killing. This was one battle that had to be to the death.

The cannon's melted beautifully, making Jason curse. Clark amped up his heat vision, punching through the flyer's windshield to hit Jason in the chest. It should have punched a hole through his chest, but instead it knocked him through his seat back and into the cabin of his flyer. He didn't appear harmed by it, just infuriated. Clark used quick blasts of X-ray vision to find the engine and fuel cells, hoping that blowing up the flyer would take Jason out. His heart hurt for the pilot and human soldiers in the flyer, but he couldn't afford to let Jason live.

It didn't work. Jason moved nearly as quickly as Clark could, darting to the door of his flyer to smash it open before Clark could destroy the fuel cells. He leaped out of the flyer just as the fuel cells started to overload. He fell to the ground so calmly that he might as well be Kryptonian, like Clark. He didn't appear to be able to fly, thank God—that would have been horrible. Another person able to fly like that would be nearly impossible to fight with Clark as crippled as he was currently.

The sound of Jason's impact with the earth was hidden by the flyer spiraling into the ground, making a controlled crash. Jason made a good-sized crater when he landed. He landed like Clark would have, on his feet, knees flexing to take the impact. He really did act like he was Kryptonian. Clark used X-ray vision on him, hissing a little at the modifications that had been made to Jason. He was part cyborg, part human, part Kryptonian, all of it blending together in a way entirely too much like Jor-El's stories of the soldiers Zod had tried to make. Jason was Zod's ultimate soldier, finally created on Earth.

The soldiers who survived the crash of the flyer were scrambling away from the flyer, screaming about the fuel cells going to blow. Jason's eyes were cold, grim, and completely determined as he stood in the middle of his crater, glaring at Clark. Neither of them spoke for the second or two that they studied each other. It felt like an eternity to Clark, the moment oddly stretched as his body speeded up to deal with this far-greater-than-expected threat. He truly didn't think he was going to survive this fight.

Jason darted at Clark at super-speed, his burnt and tattered shirt ripped away from his chest. Clark waited, unmoving. He could hear the others, scrambling to get to safety. He could hear Pete and Whit talking with Bruce and his group. He could hear Genevieve talking with Lionel while petting Lana's head where it lay over her knee. He could easily hear Lana gritting her teeth. She was gritting them so hard that he thought Genevieve might be able to hear Lana's teeth. All that while, all the Constructs—from Cary on to the youngest CN's being trained—cried out mentally to him.

*You can't let him kill you!* Cary cried for them. *You're our Papa!*

*I can't let him capture the crystals,* Clark replied calmly, meeting Jason's rush solidly. *You're more important than I am. Now don't distract me—I'm fighting!*

Clark let them fade out of his awareness, just a clamor of 'noise' in the back of his head, like the clamor of real noise that always filled his ears. Jason didn't seem to have that problem, as he was calm, clear, and focused on destroying Clark. He was a hair stronger than Clark was right now, though just a bit slower. Clark was able to twist ahead of Jason's blows, reducing their impact. Jason wasn't able to do the same, not being able to move quite as fast as Clark.

Clark's ribs broke at the first blow to his gut. Jason's nose broke as Clark counter-punched him. Stomach, legs, back, arms, face, stomach again, the blows piled on at super-speed, until Jason's downed flyer finally exploded about ten seconds later. It knocked both of them to the ground, as they'd been so wrapped up in their battle that they hadn't paid attention to the outside world. Otherwise they would have braced for it and kept fighting. Clark rolled to his feet instantly.

A quick blast of super-breath that made his ribs scream at him cleared the air so that Clark could see what Jason was doing. He was studying Clark, looking at him as if to see just how much damage he had yet to inflict. Clark did the same, using X-ray vision. Jason had badly broken ribs, a fractured collarbone, several internal mechanical parts were broken and leaking into his body cavity. That would kill him slowly, but Clark didn't have time for Jason to die a slow death. His right leg had torn ligaments from kicking at Clark and being twisted off his feet when Clark caught his leg, but that didn't appear to affect his movement. His nose was broken, as was one cheekbone.

Their two-second pause ended as Clark rushed Jason, closing the distance between them. They returned to battering each other to death, each blow of fist against flesh so fast and so hard that it was like being hit by mini-explosions. The impacts sounded like guns going off. Clark wasn't sure he was going to win. Jason was too tough, and he didn't appear to feel pain at all. Clark broke his jaw with one blow, Jason's face visibly deforming under Clark's fist, but Jason's eyes didn't register any pain at all. It was like fighting a machine, a zombie, not a living person.

*Keep fighting, Papa!* one of the CN's said. *We've got a plan to help!*

Clark's awareness fluttered to them as he tried to figure out their plan, but in a battle like this, loosing your focus could be deadly. Jason used Clark's slip to knock Clark to the ground. He knelt on Clark's hips, pounding him into the ground (quite literally, as his blows were hammering the pavement under Clark's body into dust).

*Don't sacrifice yourself for me!* Clark cried to the CN's.

*Don't be stupid!* the lead CN said as he set his crystal against the two others held by his mates. *You're our father. You're going to save our race. You're going to stop Zod from destroying Earth. You can't die!*

The fourth CN set his tiny crystal against the three the others held. All of the crystals started to glow, sucking power—life energy—out of the CN's. Suddenly, the aurora appeared over them. They were pulling so much energy that they were warping the magnetic field of the planet (temporarily, Clark sincerely hoped). The CN's began to blaze with light, making Jason pause and stare. Clark used the moment's inattention to shove Jason off. Jason flew about fifteen feet, rolling back to his feet immediately, though he was moving more slowly now. Clark rolled to his feet, panting with pain from the broken ribs, a broken breastbone…Jason had broken nearly every bone in his chest.

The light from the CN's crystals lanced away from them, blasting into Clark's back. He'd expected the energy to hurt, but it didn't. It felt warm and loving, full of the adoration the CN's felt for Clark. They were sacrificing their individual lives to heal their father, to give him the chance to save their brothers and the rest of the world.

"Oh God!" Clark cried, head flung back as every broken bone snapped into place and fused, every bruise faded, and every injury he'd gotten since the cannon hit him healed. The energy continued to fill him, making him glow like the sun until the CN's collapsed to the ground, dead. They'd healed him and supercharged his body better than going straight out of the atmosphere and basking in the raw sunshine for hours.

"No," Jason said, voice mushy from the broken jaw. "No!"

"Thank you," Clark whispered, tears on his cheeks. Two other CN's ran up and took the crystals, disappearing back to the headquarters Bruce had created on the other side of the line. "Thank you so much, boys…"

Clark wiped his tears away, ripped off the remnants of his destroyed jacket and shirt, and then looked at Jason. There was no doubt about how the fight would end now. Jason was not Zod. He was not Clark's equal when Clark was healthy.

"No!" Jason roared, infuriated but completely unafraid.

Clark swallowed hard, lips thin as he braced himself for what had to be done. Then he charged. Jason met him, bracing himself for the impact of Clark's fist, while trying to strike hard enough to break Clark's neck. Clark twisted just enough that Jason's fist missed, sliding over his shoulder. Clark's fist didn't miss. It smashed into Jason's chest. Clark's other hand grabbed Jason's shoulder, keeping him from flying away from the force of the blow. Jason's mouth rounded and his eyes bugged in slow motion. Clark felt every millimeter as his hand crushed Jason's chest, pulping his heart and lungs, ending his life.

Time slowed back to normal as Clark let Jason fall to the ground. Jason's eyes were furious as his mouth worked soundlessly for a few seconds, then awareness faded as his life did. Clark shuddered, turning away. He used his heat vision to cremate the bodies of the four CN's who'd sacrificed their lives for him, then ran back to Lex, trying not to let the tears overwhelm him.

It was a war, and people died in wars. Clark knew that. It was just so hard when he had to do the killing, when people died for him. He didn't think he'd ever feel worthy of their sacrifices, when all of this was his fault. None of this would ever have happened if he hadn't been sent to Earth so many years ago.

"Thank God you're all right!" Lex breathed, hugging Clark close. "Don't scare me like that again, love. I can't live without you."

"Sorry," Clark cried, clinging to him. "Sorry. So sorry!"

"Shhh," Lex whispered, holding Clark through the guilt and tears. "Shhh, I have you. It's okay. It's okay."

Clark tried very hard to believe Lex's words.

+++++

Lana was trying very hard not to bite Genevieve's fingers. The damned woman insisted on making Lana kneel at her feet, lay her head on Genevieve's knee, just so that she could play with Lana's hair like she was a lap dog.

I'm a good girl, Lana reminded herself as those fingers came by her eyes again, I'm a good girl, I'm a fucking Good Girl who does not bite! As much as I want to. As much as the fucking bitch deserves it. I am a Good Girl!

Lionel's eyes were so amused as he watched Lana trying to be a good girl, submitting so reluctantly to Genevieve. He seemed endlessly amused by Genevieve's 'affections' for Lana. He laughed whenever Lana's control broke, laughed as Genevieve beat her or fucked her into the mattress. He beamed at everything that Genevieve did, like she was some sort of perfect bride, which she might be for a monster like him. Lana tried to rein in her rage and hatred in. She really didn't want to add another whipping to the one that she got after Jason left this morning. She was in enough pain as it was.

"Oh!" Genevieve gasped, her hands pulling Lana's hair sharply. "Oh my!"

She pushed Lana's head off of her knee, letting Lana look up at her. Genevieve had gone pale, clutching her chest. Lionel frowned, coming to her side. He pushed Lana out of the way so that he could kneel next to his wife, patting her knee comfortingly. Lana took the opportunity to scurry back into a corner near the door. At least she was out of touching range now.

"What happened?" Lionel asked, showing more compassion and humanity than Lana had ever seen.

"Jason," Genevieve breathed, shaking her head. "Jason's failed. He's dead."

"Hmm, I assume Kal-El killed him," Lionel said calmly, more concerned about Genevieve than anything else.

"Oh yes, of course," Genevieve said, cradling her hands over her chest. "No one else could, not even that Themyscirian bitch."

"Then it's time to transfer his soul over to his new body, isn't it?" Lionel said, helping Genevieve to her feet.

She smiled wickedly, nodding. She kept her hands firmly cupped over her chest, as if holding something infinitely precious in her hands. Lionel snapped his fingers at Lana, making her flinch. Damn it, they could leave Lana out of this! But Lionel's hard look made Lana swallow hard and pass him the leash attached to her collar. She followed the two of them down into the basement where she'd seen the girl and boy clones.

The boys were full-grown now, and were clearly copies of Jason. They seemed bigger, stronger and a good bit burlier than Jason had been, but it was Jason's face on their heads, meaning that he'd been cloned and probably modified. The girls were just as feisty as they had been, kicking and pounding against their glass capsules. They were older now, too, looking to be about twenty-five. Lana bit her lip to keep in the gasp that tried to escape as she realized that they were clones of Genevieve.

The bitch was cloning herself? Lana shuddered, trying not to let her horror show. How anyone could do that, why anyone would do that, Lana had no clue. She didn't want to know, though horror visions of ten Genevieve's fucking her all at once floated through the back of her mind. That really wasn't a vision she wanted to see come true.

Genevieve stopped in front of the last tube, where the Jason-clone floated, calm, collected, and totally passive. She whispered something with her chin dropped nearly to her hands on her chest. A wash of purple energy swept over her, making her hands blaze. The light increased for a second before Genevieve slapped her hands against the capsule, shouting words that Lana didn't really hear as she backed off, trying to get out of range of whatever was going to happen. Her collar and leash kept her from escaping.

The Jason-clone abruptly stiffened as Genevieve's magic blasted into him. The light flared in his eyes, his mouth, even his ears, then Lionel was grabbing Genevieve too fast for Lana's eyes to follow, pulling her back, away from the capsule. He'd dropped Lana's leash, thank goodness, or he might have broken her neck with the sudden movement. Lana didn't have a chance to run. The capsule shattered outwards as the Jason-clone roared and smashed a fist into it. Green goop sprayed with shattered glass all over the room, splashing and cutting Lana who screamed and collapsed to the floor, covering her head with her arms.

"Where is he?" the Jason-clone roared, radiating rage.

"He's gone, dear," Genevieve said calmly. "I'm afraid that he managed to damage you rather badly. I was able to save your soul, to give you a new body, but he's escaped us."

Jason wiped the green goop off of his face with one hand, staring at his mother and Lionel. He looked down at his body, holding out his hands, turning them over a couple of times before making fists. He smiled wickedly, making Lana shrink into a tinier ball on the floor, afraid to so much as breath for fear that she'd be the one he'd try that new body out on.

"You are so amazing Mother," Jason said fondly.

"Thank you, dear," Genevieve said with a smirk. "But you do need to be a bit more careful in the future. I can only reincarnate you so many times."

"Unfortunately," Lionel said, making Jason get serious and Lana tremble, "your failure means that the constructs will be freed very shortly. Kal-El and Lex will take them away and turn them into an army for their side."

Jason growled, looking so upset, so disappointed in himself. Lana wanted to smack him. He'd just been killed, reincarnated by an evil witch, and now he was blaming himself for not doing a better job? What the hell? Jason looked around the lab, seeing the other clones of himself. He paused, then grinned, turning back to his parents.

"Use me!" Jason declared. "Sir, use me as your army. The C Series was never satisfactory because they were never truly obedient. You've already got some clones of me. Imbue us with your technology, make sure that the linkage between them and me is strong, and I'll ensure that they're never disobedient. We'll be your army, your perfect soldiers. Who needs that Kryptonian bastard's DNA? Make me into your army!"

Lionel and Genevieve exchanged looks that said (to Lana anyway—Jason seemed to think they were hesitant from his expression) it's about damn time the boy realized what we wanted him to do. Lana cringed. How could anyone be that bright and still be that easy to manipulate?

"Dear boy," Genevieve said, taking Jason's goop-covered hands tenderly and without the slightest hint of disgust at the goo, "you make me so proud of you. You'd really do this for us?"

"Of course!" Jason said, visibly delighted. "I'd do anything for you, Mother. And for you, Sir."

"Then we'll do it," Lionel said, coming over and clasping Jason's shoulder for an instant. A flicker of pain showed in his eyes and he dropped his hand off of Jason's shoulder quickly, wiping his hand on a handkerchief that he put on the desk. "Let's get you cleaned up so that we can set to work on creating my new army."

"Thank you for giving me this opportunity, Sir!" Jason said, beaming.

Lana let herself be yanked to her feet and towed along behind the happy family. She was certain that there was something in the goo that Lionel didn't like. She didn't know what it was, but she was sure it was there. Every CN or CM they passed got pale, making Lana frown. It hurt them, too. Lionel appeared to have less of a weakness to it than the constructs, but he did have a weakness, the first that Lana had ever seen. As Genevieve sent her to shower the goop off and bandage her cuts, Lana wondered if there was any way to get a message to the Resistance.

It was almost a miracle when Genevieve left her alone after Lana's wounds were cleaned. She left, going to check on Jason when there was a sharp cry from the other room. Lana didn't bother drying off before running to the hallway and grabbing the first construct that she found. There were far fewer than she'd expected, and the two she found seemed to be leaving.

"Tell the Resistance that Lionel reacts to the stuff in the green goop," Lana said fiercely, making the CN start and stare. "Not much but he does react to it. Whatever it is in that goop that makes you guys flinch, it makes Lionel flinch, too!"

The CN's eyes lit up and he nodded, looking at the other construct with him. They seemed to share a moment of silent communication, and then Lana found herself swept up in his arms. She squeaked as the construct started running. It was so fast that she couldn't breath, couldn't see, and couldn't hear. Lana turned her face into his neck, hanging on for dear life. She wasn't sure if she was getting rescued or what, but at least she wouldn't have that bitch Genevieve's hands all over her from now on. Lord knows, Lana thought bitterly, wherever she ended up would probably be worse, the way Lana's luck ran.

+++++

Cary curled into the nice Pete-person's side as Papa Clark held onto the Lex-person, crying his heart out. All the constructs were crying inside as they pulled out of wherever they were. None of them (Cary included) let the tears reach their outsides, though. They didn't know if it was okay to yet. The older CN's and CM's were rescuing the children from the training camps. Every post where they'd been stationed was being abandoned, so that they could come and support their Papa finally.

Cary couldn't tell anyone, of course, because he'd promised to keep Papa Clark's secret when he was rescued. He could read, and he could write a little with his good hand, as they were all taught to during training. Cary was really rusty at writing, but he knew he could at least scrawl a few words. He wouldn't let the Bruce-person know that because Cary knew he couldn't keep secrets, and this was a big secret that he wasn't supposed to admit to until Papa Clark said it was okay.

The Pete-person wrapped his arm around Cary's shoulders, hugging him into his side. The Pete-person was nice, if a little angry at the Whitney-person who was always so hungry for sex. They seemed nice together, at least to Cary, but he didn't understand everything about their relationship. He didn't know why the Pete-person wouldn't give the Whitney-person sex if they were together. They seemed to be together to Cary, but he wasn't sure he understood properly. He never did understand everything properly, which didn't bother him most of the time. Papa Clark had explained that Cary never would understand everything. It was just the way he was, so it was fine.

"Come on," the Whitney-person said pulling the Ollie-person that Cary had healed to his feet. "We need to get the hell out of here before they regroup and attack."

"Whit?" the Ollie-person rasped, face coming alive as he realized whose shoulder he was draped over. "Thought you were dead!"

"Nope," the Whitney-person said, grinning at him. "Just sent off to find the Fortress in the arctic. Death sentence, just hasn't happened yet."

"We need to get the crystals to Gotham," the Bruce-person said, all grim and Bat-like the way he always was when he wore his special armor-clothes. Cary sometimes wished he had armor-clothes that made him tougher and smarter like the Bruce-person's. It would be nice to be smarter and stronger when you wore a special outfit.

"The constructs are coming," Papa Clark said, voice horse and broken, tears still on his cheeks. "If each construct carries one crystal, they can run at a good speed, getting them there quickly instead of at 45 miles an hour. Having them touching was part of what created the interference with moving quickly."

"How many?" the Pete-person asked, helping Cary to his feet and grinning at Cary's delight that someone would take care of him that way. He hugged Cary back when Cary latched onto him, rubbing his back and rumbling a laugh in his chest. "There are quite a few crystals. Are there enough constructs in range to get them all?"

Papa Clark looked sad and noble and so haunted, making Cary and the other constructs close by want to go to him. He always looked like that when he thought about them as a group. Cary knew it was because he had such a hard time with the fact that some of them died and Papa Clark couldn't save them, but it still hurt to see Papa Clark look that way. The Lex-person seemed to agree with Cary because he rubbed Papa Clark's back comfortingly.

"No, Pete," Papa Clark said gently, "they're all coming to Gotham. Every single one that we can save, from the oldest to the youngest babies in the crèches."

"He hears all of them," the Pete-person whispered, turning horrified eyes on Cary.

Cary flinched, pleading with his eyes for the Pete-person not to tell the others. That was the biggest secret that Cary had to keep and the hardest one of all. The Pete-person saw his bitten lip, the worried eyes, felt the trembling in Cary's body and his eyes softened. He wrapped that arm around Cary's back again, patting his arm reassuringly.

"It's okay, Cary," the Pete-person said, "don't worry. It'll all be all right now, I'm sure."

Cary relaxed, relieved. The Pete-person really was a nice guy. He was startled when the Bruce-person and Mercy and Hope came over, rubbing his back, too. Mercy and Hope were okay. They were sort of like Cary and the constructs and Jason, who had been made different by the Zod-thing that everyone called Lionel. Cary wasn't sure what had been done to Hope and Mercy, but he knew they were like him, different, just smarter than Cary. They all comforted Cary, too, making him duck his head and hide a smile. Everyone in the Resistance was so nice to him.

His construct brothers were showing up quickly now, first singly, then in pairs and then in packs. Papa Clark smiled and tried to touch or hug every single one of them, especially the littlest ones saved from the training camps. Papa Clark beamed with delight at the babies, all little and squirmy in his brother's arms. Cary had never seen so many of his brothers in one place, not since he was sent away from training and out to work in the world. It was nice not to be so alone anymore. He'd missed having brothers around when he'd been rescued and taken to Gotham by Papa Clark. It was always easier when he wasn't alone.

"Everyone grab a crystal and run to Gotham," Papa Clark told Cary's brothers. "That's where everyone's gathering anyway. It'll take a few hours for the constructs on other continents to get here. I'm not sure how we'll get the ones in Australia, but we'll get everyone we can as quick as we can."

"Did you just steal Lionel's army?" the Lex-person asked, admiration and his wicked sense of humor showing in his eyes.

"More or less," Papa Clark said with a laugh. "Come on, we should get out of here. We don't have a ton of time."

Cary laughed soundlessly as one of the CN's picked him up to carry him. Cary met his brother's grin. Cary couldn't run fast or hit hard anymore, not since he'd lost his leg and arm, but at least Papa Clark still thought he was useful.

*Of course you're useful,* his brother declared. *You're our little brother who passes messages to the Resistance for us.*

*Not well,* Cary protested as they started running at super-speed for Gotham. *The Bruce-person doesn't really believe me when I try and tell him things. The Diana-person does, but not the Bruce-person and he's the leader.*

*Doesn't matter,* his brother said, giving Cary a little squeeze. *You're still useful, because we all get to love you.*

Cary laughed, his laughter just air pushed out of his lungs since his vocal cords had been destroyed when he was a baby. It didn't matter that no one could hear the laughter. It was still a laugh and it made the other constructs grin.

*Love is good!* Cary said, cuddling with his brother. He smelled like oil and gunpowder and blood, so he must have been working as a soldier somewhere. *I wonder if we'll all get names now? Are there that many names in the world for all of us to have a name of our own?*

*Couldn't be,* a different brother said, a little one that looked like a ten-year-old human-person. *There couldn't be that many names in the whole world!*

Papa Clark laughed in their minds, warm and loving and finally so happy. He was flying overhead, the Lex-person in his arms. Cary beamed. That was his favorite way to see Papa Clark, flying overhead the way none of them could. Maybe if Papa Clark's plan with the fortress worked his brothers would be able to fly, too. Cary didn't think he'd ever fly, but it didn't really matter to Cary one way or the other. He liked looking up at Papa Clark as he soared through the sky, especially when he was with the Lex-person that he loved so much. Papa Clark and the Lex-person belonged together, especially while flying.

*There are more than enough names for you all to have one of your very own,* Papa Clark said fondly. *May take a while to give you each one, but everyone will have their own name. I'll make sure of it.*

The run back to Gotham and the Bruce-person's really big house didn't take very long at all, just about ten minutes or so. His brothers had carried everyone important, the Bruce-person, Hope, Mercy, the Pete-person who looked so green and afraid when he was set down, the Whitney-person who immediately went to the Ollie-person's side, supporting him and making sure he was okay. The Ollie-person looked tired and weak, making Cary bite his lip.

*Maybe I didn't heal him right?* Cary asked, getting his hair ruffled by the brother who'd carried him.

*No, you just fixed the hole in his chest,* his brother said, *so of course he's still tired and weak. Our brothers who died for Papa Clark fixed everything. You're not allowed to do that because then we wouldn't have our Cary and it would make Papa Clark really sad.*

*It would too,* Papa Clark said, giving Cary one of his wonderfully warming looks, holding his arms out to Cary.

Cary beamed and hugged him, wishing he were just a little smaller than Papa Clark so it would be easier to be tucked under Papa Clark's chin and held like a little boy. He always felt littler than the others, even though he was exactly the same size.

"Let's head inside," the Bruce-person said, his eyes showing he was amazed at the army of constructs, though his face and voice didn't show any surprise at all. "We've got a lot to talk about."

The hard look the Bruce-person gave Papa Clark made him wince, and Cary cringe. Papa Clark sighed, rubbing Cary's back before following the Bruce-person inside the mansion. Cary's brothers set to work setting up the crystals where the new fortress would go, constructing it carefully so that it would be easier for human-people to get into and out of. Papa Clark mentally directed them, knowing where each one should go to get the best results. He'd activate the fortress once everything was ready and all the constructs were there. He hoped that activating the Fortress would let him heal them all. Cary didn't really care if he was healed. It might be nice to talk, but he'd gotten used to not having an arm, leg and eye. Cary followed Papa Clark, going to the Pete-person who smiled so brightly at him and understood how to deal with Cary's limitations.

"Come on, kiddo," the Pete-person said, taking Cary's good hand. "Let's go listen to what happens. Somehow I think it's going to be interesting."

+++++

Lana gasped as the construct slowed and then stopped, depositing her in the middle of some sort of meeting room. She was dizzy and lightheaded from the run, trembling from cold, and had realized a few seconds into the run that she was stark fucking naked. The only thing she had on was the damned collar that Lionel had strapped around her neck when he'd taken her as his 'pet'.

"Lana?"

"W-w-w-whitney?" Lana paled, whirling while covering herself as best she could.

"Good god, Lana!" Whitney said while hurrying over to wrap his smelly, filthy army jacket around her. "What the hell happened to you?"

He'd grown a beard at some point and it made him look like a wild-man. The Whitney she remembered seemed to be completely gone. Lana couldn't believe how bad he smelled, like he hadn't bathed for days. She really wished she'd been given a nice clean blanket or something, but the jacket was better than nothing. It was long enough on her that it covered everything important as she clutched it around her body.

"S-s-sorry," Lana said, teeth chattering. "C-cold."

"Lovely," a bald man drawled, making Lana start and stare. That had to be Lex Luthor, which meant that the really gorgeous construct standing next to him had to be Kal-El. "Your construct army had to rescue her, did they?"

"She had some important observations on Lionel and Jason," Kal-El said, frowning at Lana as if he knew her. "She's seen things that might be helpful for us to know."

"Mercy," the Batman said, eyes colder than ice as he looked at Lana, "get her cleaned up, dressed and then back here quickly."

"Right," Mercy said, her eyes and face so cold that Lana shivered harder. "Come on."

Lana gulped but followed her, unwilling to risk upsetting someone that scary, especially after being 'trained' by Lionel and Genevieve. Getting cleaned up was a surprisingly quick and painless procedure after months with Lionel. Mercy bandaged Lana's wounds, tsked over the whip marks on her back, gave her clothes, shoes and then cut the collar off of her neck with a knife that was longer than Lana's forearm.

"That's better," Mercy said, tossing the collar into a strange garbage bin that turned out to be a mini-incinerator. "Now he may know where you are, but he's not going to be able to spy on us through you. Follow me."

"Yes, ma'am," Lana said, following her meekly while her eyes were checking everything out and her mind was going a million miles an hour. "Ma'am?"

"What?" Mercy asked, eyes cold as she looked down at Lana.

"I'm not going to be beaten or killed, am I?"

Mercy stopped, looking at Lana. Lana couldn't decide if she should cringe or if she should square her shoulders, but decided that if she'd been saved then it was okay not to be the Good Girl anymore. She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and tried very hard not to tremble in front of Mercy's dissecting examination.

"Not unless you do something stupid," Mercy said calmly, "like hit on Bruce or Hope. Oh, and keep your hands off of the constructs, Kal-El and Lex. If you cause sexual chaos here, I will make sure you die inconspicuously but very painfully. Other than that, no, you should be fine. No one will randomly beat or kill you."

Lana gulped, a shudder shaking her from her toes on up to her hair. Mercy turned and led the way. Lana followed silently. This was going to be a lot harder than she'd thought. She'd spent the last decade perfecting being the perfect little sexual siren, and now she couldn't use that skill set. Well, she'd just have to find someone reasonable to pair up with and let that person protect her. She'd be careful to pick someone outside of the ruling elite around here. She'd had more than enough of that nonsense with Lionel.

Whitney lit up when she was led back into the meeting room, though he didn't leave the side of his friend with the bloodstained shirt. Lana blinked at the hole in that shirt, wondering if he was altered. Kal-El was quietly explaining something to Batman, while Lex was nodding agreement, holding a baby construct with one arm while gesturing at the map with a gun in his other hand. Mercy rejoined Batman and the others, tapping his shoulder.

"Good, you're back," Batman said, pulling his cowl and mask off. It was solid, like a facemask, which surprised Lana. Hope took it and set it aside without comment. "We need to know what it was that you saw, what it was that made you run out to the construct."

"Well," Lana said, approaching the table very hesitantly, "There's a lot. Should I start at the beginning?"

"Do," Kal-El said, nodding approval and smiling warmly at her.

Lana was struck again by the sense that he seemed to know her, though she had no idea how. She told them what had happened, how Genevieve had been growing clones of herself and of Jason, how her personality had been used as a template for the Genevieve-clones, and how she'd tried to sabotage it. She didn't know if it would succeed, but it couldn't hurt to try. She told them about what had happened earlier, how Genevieve had reincarnated Jason, and what he'd said about volunteering to be Lionel's new army. She explained how she thought he'd been manipulated, how his body seemed to differ from when she'd seen him last. And she explained what she'd seen with the green goop, how it had affected Lionel and the constructs.

"That was what made me run out to the construct," Lana said with a final shrug. "It's the only weakness I've seen in Lionel since I was made his 'pet'. I was with him for almost a year. I never saw him make any mistakes, never saw any weaknesses, never saw him behave like a human, really. I don't know what it is about him, but he never gets drunk off of alcohol, never gets high, never gets hurt, never seems to strain himself no matter how hard he's working physically, and never shows the slightest bit of pain. It's…I really wondered if he was human."

"He's not anymore," Kal-El said sadly. "He was taken over by a Kryptonian virus and remade into something—someone—else, but if he has a weakness to kryptonite, then that's good. We can use it."

"Jason was suspended in this gel?" Lex asked, holstering his gun to pat the baby's back as it fussed.

"Yes, sir," Lana said, nodding firmly. "All ten of the Jason clones were suspended in it."

"Then they don't have that weakness," Lex said, growling a little. "And they're making him into a super-soldier, then cloning him off by the hundreds. How long did it take for the clones to mature?"

"Um," Lana thought about it, "The first time I saw them yesterday they looked about ten years old. Today they looked full grown, about twenty-five. So I'd say maybe two days to maturity."

"That's much faster than it used to be!" Kal-El said, alarmed. "It used to take weeks to get the embryos to childhood, and you couldn't grow them to full maturity in the tubes. That means that they could have a full army in a matter of weeks with machines like that. Damn, and we have no way to tell how many of these machines there are."

"Twenty in the basement of Lionel's mansion," Lana said calmly, "plus the scientist mentioned that there were four other sites that had a minimum of the same number of them, which makes it at least 100 clone machines. That means for him to have a 100,000-clone army, with those 100 machines, taking two days per clone, it'll be about five and a half years. If he has a thousand of them, I'd be amazed. With a thousand clone machines it would still take about 200 days to get his army. He'd need something like 40,000 of the clone machines to have them in a week, and frankly, I know he doesn't have that sort of resources. They looked really new."

Everyone stared at her, making Lana blush but lift her chin. She'd been right there, sitting at the bastard's feet as he worked and held meetings and went about his business. She probably had a fairly decent idea of what he had available to him.

"Well, that's somewhat reassuring," Lex said with a raised eyebrow, "but that's only what he's got in this country."

"Do you really think he'd let a different country have access to his best technology?" Lana countered, cocking her head at him. "He barely lets his best stuff out of eyesight."

"Point taken," Lex said nodding. "We may have a chance then. He might be able to make Jason-clones quickly, but he can't generate an army in a matter of hours."

He rested his chin on the baby's head, rubbing its back as it snored in his arms. Lana found it very odd to see Lex Luthor comforting a baby, but who was she to judge? She'd spent the last year or so being a pet. Maybe holding the baby just made Lex feel better or something.

"Right," Bruce said, staring at her. "We need to discuss what to do with this, Ms. Lane, and you'll forgive me but you're not trustworthy yet."

"I don't want to be trustworthy," Lana said, shuddering. "I've had more than enough of this sort of thing, and frankly, all I want is to find someone nice, quiet and reliable who'll love me and take care of me. Or at least find someplace quiet to sit and relax. I've been on edge for months, and Genevieve was…bad. Whatever you do, count me out unless you have questions about the Bastard and his Bitch Wife. If not, I haven't eaten properly for two days, and I'm hungry."

Whitney's jaw had dropped at her little speech. Kal-El looked floored. Mercy and Hope looked approving. Lex was hiding a smirk in the baby's head. Bruce raised an eyebrow as his lips twitched with amusement.

"Well then," Bruce said, "if one of the constructs other than Cary would take Ms. Lane off to get some food, we'll get back to work."

Lana nodded and followed the construct that approached her, glad to be away from the Resistance's version of Lionel's 'halls of power'. She truly had had enough of all of that. She'd thought that it would be exciting when she'd started climbing the tower of men that led to Lionel Luthor. She'd thought that sleeping her way to the top might net her a powerful husband who'd love her and protect her. She'd gotten nothing but the opposite and wanted nothing to do with that sort of person anymore. She wasn't the perfect Small Town Girl now, but since she didn't have to be the Good Girl either, maybe Lana could find a happy medium with someone relatively normal, settle down, have a life and not be beaten, fucked into the mattress, or anything anymore. Couldn't hurt to try, anyway.

+++++

Ollie tried not to wheeze as he sat in his corner, watching everyone else work at saving the world. He should be in there, helping, offering his opinion, telling them what he knew. He couldn't do it. He hurt, he couldn't breath, and the image of John with a hole in his head flashed at him every time he blinked. Damn it, John had been with Ollie for years, since just after Ollie joined the military. They'd worked together, fought together, fucked together and now he was gone. It hurt a thousand times worse than his chest, and made breathing that much harder.

"You okay?" Whitney asked quietly, sitting next to Ollie.

He didn't look at Ollie, didn't draw attention to him, but it was so obvious that Whit was focused on him, not everyone else. Whit had joined their little band of hidden military rebels long after John had proposed the 'Robin Hood' thing. He'd bounced between being called Will Scarlet and Friar Tuck at first, ending up as Will Scarlet because he was always out for fun and was such a good fighter. A lot of the fun seemed gone since the last time Ollie had seen him.

"Will be," Ollie said, shrugging minimally. "Just hard to breath right now. That whole getting shot in the chest thing, you know. Tends to be a bit of a drag."

Whit grinned at him, the old mischief in his eyes at the weak joke. Ollie chuckled and patted his shoulder. It was good to have one of the Merry Men there, though he'd rather have had John by his side. Kal-El nodded to something that Lex had said, gesturing to the CK, Cary. Cary beamed and bounced up, going to him and hugging him like a little boy.

"Let's get that voice of yours fixed," Kal-El said, ruffling Cary's curls.

"You can fix it?" Bruce said, sounding astonished.

Or at least he sounded astonished for Bruce—Ollie swore the man had replaced his vocal cords with a computer at some point. He did his best to always be the original iceman, and had done so for as along as Ollie had known him. It was distinctly odd being in the room with Lex and Bruce. They'd been rivals and enemies for so long before Lionel took over the world that it was weird to be on their side. Ollie was sure they didn't trust him—he wouldn't have in their shoes.

"Yes, I can," Kal-El said, grinning at Cary's hug. "I've got the crystal for it, and it should be fairly easy."

He looked down at Cary's suddenly worried expression, eyes going tender.

"No, you don't have to worry about keeping the secret anymore, Cary," Kal-El said. "We're rescuing the other constructs, so our link isn't an issue anymore. Everyone will know, and all of you can act like the people you really are."

Cary looked unutterably relieved as Kal-El pulled a tiny crystal out of his pocket. Kal-El took a deep breath, doing something with the crystal that made it glow. He touched it to Cary's throat and the glow transferred to him, spreading through his neck and then up to his head. After a few seconds it faded and Cary blinked, eyes wide.

"Go on," Kal-El said encouragingly, "try and say something."

"Something?" Cary said in a little-boy-lost voice. He gasped, then laughed, a beautiful, utterly delighted laugh that made everyone in the room grin, even Ollie. "I can talk! I can talk just like a real person!"

"That you can," Kal-El said, hugging him tight, eyes haunted. "Our boy Cary."

Cary pulled away, hugging Lex, Mercy, Hope, Bruce, several other constructs who all laughed soundlessly at him before going back and hugging the stuffing out of the black guy who'd been traveling with Whit.

"Easy there, Cary," the black guy said with a laugh. "I don't have bones as tough as you do."

"I'm sorry, Pete-person," Cary said, looking chastised and delighted at the same time. "I'll try really, really, really hard not to hurt the Pete-person, I promise!"

Kal-El went to the other constructs, healing them as well. They were CN's, Ollie thought, far more intelligent and adult that Cary, who had curled up next to Pete like an oversized puppy in human shape. Lex watched Kal-El, still cuddling the baby construct. The smile on his lips and the look in his eyes was almost human, Ollie thought. He'd never seen Lex look like that at anyone. He'd seen wary, afraid, angry, homicidal, and thoroughly insane looks in Lex's eyes, but never a love that practically made him glow.

"Wow," the first CN said, blinking his eyes and rubbing his throat. "This is going to take a while to get used to."

"I know," the second CN said, starting at the sound of his own voice. The three of them exchanged looks, apparently communicating somehow without words.

"Speak out loud, boys," Kal-El said firmly. "I know you're not used to it, but you need to or no one will understand you but me."

"They're telepathic?" Ollie asked, fighting a cough set off by his automatic gasp.

"Very much so," Kal-El said, nodding at Ollie. "The surgeries and training never truly did anything. I'm telepathic with all of them and I encouraged them not to fight back, to do as they were told, to try and be basically…well, flesh robots. I knew that if Lionel knew about it, he'd find a way to make them into what he wanted and I couldn't bear the thought of it. I didn't let anyone know how deep the link is because I knew it would make it impossible for the Resistance to fight the constructs."

Ollie swallowed painfully around a mouth far too dry. He couldn't imagine that, being linked to them, the children being tortured, the adults being sent off to kill and die for a person that you considered to be your enemy. He knew perfectly well what the constructs had been forced to do, in the military, in various dangerous jobs, and worst of all (to Ollie anyway) in the sex trade. He rubbed his chest, refusing to let the weight there set off coughing.

"Come on," Whit said, tugging at Ollie's elbow. "You really need to get some rest, Oliver. No one is going to blame you when you almost fucking died."

"I should help," Ollie protested quietly, resisting Whit's tug.

"They don't trust you," Whit said with a shrug. "Not much you can do besides listen. Come on, food, clean clothes, a real bed, some rest, that's what you need right now."

"Shoulda named you Tuck," Ollie muttered, letting Whitney pull him to his feet. He had to grab Whitney's shoulder when his knees tried to give out as the world receded in a wave of grey roaring. By the time the world came back, Bruce was telling someone to get him a room, some food and clean clothes.

"I'm fine," Ollie protested as Whit wrapped an arm around his waist and draped one of Oliver's arms over his shoulder to half-carry him.

"Yeah, right," Whit snorted. "Come on, boss man. Let's get you to bed. You're wiped."

"Really should have named you Friar Tuck," Ollie grumbled.

He did a good job of pretending not to need Whit's help as they left the conference room, and walked down the hallway. It wasn't until they hit the stairs that he let himself sag. Whit chuckled, grinning at Ollie's rueful smile.

"Stubborn cuss," Whit said fondly. "Told you that you needed me."

"Yeah," Ollie said, John's face flashing at him as he blinked rapidly against the tears. "Missed you, Scarlet."

"Hey, took a bit, but I'm back," Whit replied, his voice a bit tight. "We'll have good times again. So where's John? He's usually glued to your hip."

Ollie couldn't manage to say anything, just shaking his head at Whitney as they made it down the stairs and into one of the many bedrooms in Bruce's manor. Whit flinched, eyes going wide as he realized what the silence meant. They didn't say anything else as Whit helped Ollie get cleaned up, tucked into bed, and then fed. When the food was gone, Whitney stayed by Ollie's side, quiet and supportive during Ollie's grief.

+++++

"How'd they meet and become a couple?" Pete quietly asked Cary, rubbing the boy's back. It didn't matter that Cary was bigger than Pete by quite a bit and fully adult, he felt and acted like a boy to Pete, so that's what he'd always be. "They don't seem like they'd be a good match on the surface of things."

"Ooo, you don't know that, do you, Pete-person?" Cary said, grinning at him in delight. "It's a great story! Papa Clark tells us that story whenever things get bad and we need comfort."

"What story?" Kal-El said, grinning at Cary. "Oh, the how'd you meet story!"

"Which time?" Lex asked, grinning too. "We met three times total."

"Want me to tell it?" Kal-El asked, laughing at the sheer delight from all of the constructs, even the ones lined up waiting to have their vocal cords healed. "I'll take that as a yes."

Pete smiled as Cary cuddled up against him, the contact anything but sexual. It was like a little boy curling up with his dad for a good show, or to listen to the radio or something. The other constructs watched Kal-El attentively, eyes shining with so much love. He was their whole world, Pete realized, their Papa.

"The first time Lex and I met," Kal-El said, healing another construct's vocal chords, "I had just crashed on Earth. I'd run away from my spaceship because I heard people calling for help, trapped in a pickup truck that had overturned. Their names were Martha and Jonathan, though I didn't know that yet. They seemed very nice, and I liked them very much, so I adopted them. They adopted me, too, deciding to take me home with them and raise me as their little boy. Their truck was totaled, so they needed a ride from someone else. I led them back to my spaceship, but another man had put it into the trunk of his limousine. His name was Lionel Luthor, and he had a very sick little boy in the back of his car, whose name was Lex."

Lex's face was a study in surprise and amusement. Apparently, he'd never heard Kal-El tell this story this way, the way you'd tell a little boy a story. Bruce, Mercy and Hope all looked amazed at the difference, too. Pete chuckled, setting his chin on top of Cary's head on his shoulder. The kid sighed happily and wiggled a little lower to snuggle against Pete. As Kal-El healed one construct another two or three would come in, looking to hear the story and get healed.

"Lex was very sick because he'd been affected by the meteors that came with my spaceship," Kal-El continued as he kept healing his children. "He'd lost his hair but he'd gained a very important thing. He didn't get sick anymore and he healed very, very quickly. I thought he looked very nice when I saw him for the first time, and I patted his cheek to tell him so. I couldn't speak English yet, so that pat was all I could do. Lionel dropped us off at the Kent's house and I became their son. Lionel took Lex back to his house, along with my spaceship. Eventually, he learned how to open the spaceship and became a very bad man named Zod. Zod turned him into something other than a human, but not quite a Kryptonian either. He started to take over the world, doing many bad things to many people."

Kal-El sighed, smiling at the hug from the construct he was healing.

"Lex didn't like what his father was doing, not one tiny bit," Kal-El continued, "but he didn't have any power, and so he couldn't stop it. He tried talking, and he tried fighting, and he tried killing himself in many ways, but none of those ways worked. The gift he'd gotten from the meteors was too strong and Lex couldn't die those ways. One day he was sent to Smallville to supervise one of Lionel's plants there. He was very, very angry and drove much too fast."

"Much too fast!" Lex agreed with a hearty laugh. "Something like 100 miles an hour on a 45 mile an hour road."

"He came to a bridge," Kal-El said, grinning at Lex, "and hit some debris. I was on the bridge, looking down at the water because I was depressed about not having any friends and being such a freak. I didn't know who I was then. I had no idea I was an alien, or that I'd come from another world. I just knew my parents made me keep my powers a secret, and that I wasn't allowed to be around other people. Lex hit some debris on the bridge, went out of control and hit me, smashing right through the guardrail. That sent both of us into the river."

Pete squeaked, suddenly realizing that he remembered this. He'd heard all about it. This wasn't some myth, it was something that had happened in his hometown. He looked at Kal-El, really looked at him for the first time and squawked.

"Clark Kent!" Pete said, flinching as he realized how loud his voice was in the quiet room.

"Finally figured that out, huh?" Clark / Kal-El said with a grin at him. "I was wondering how long it would take for you and Whit to recognize me. Yup, Clark Kent, son of Jonathan and Martha Kent."

"Shit," Pete breathed, laughing. "Now I feel like a total moron."

"Not a big deal," Clark said with a shrug. "After all, everyone always sees 'construct' not 'Clark Kent'. So anyway, back to the story. I rescued Lex, and instead of accepting a reward, all I wanted was a blanket since I was wet and thanks."

"Which confused the living hell out me," Lex laughed, "and made me remember you."

"It wasn't much longer after that," Clark continued, "that I found the Kawatche Caves. My father had set up an AI in the caves that told me what I was, what Lionel had become, and told me that my destiny was to save the world from Zod. There were three crystals scattered around the world that when joined would let me create the Fortress, but I had no way to get them. I was just a seventeen-year-old boy in Smallville, Kansas. However, Lionel had met and fallen in love with Genevieve Teague. She knew about the Crystals of Power, and she 'convinced' Lionel to help her find and unite them. By this time, Jason was Lionel's favorite and Lex was desperate to escape. Once Lex understood what the Crystal of Knowledge would do for Lionel and Genevieve, he knew he had to act."

Lex ducked his head, looking troubled as he nuzzled the baby's head. Pete frowned, wondering just how horrible it would have been if Lionel had gotten the Crystal. Or maybe Lex was remembering how bad it had been for him at that time?

"Lex stole the crystals from them," Clark said, laughing as more constructs poked their heads into the room that was already too crowded for anyone. "Now, make room. I know that some of you have to go work. Trade off. I promise I'll tell the whole thing to each of you in person someday."

Cary made to get up but Pete tightened his arm around his shoulder, keeping him there. Let the other more functional constructs leave. He wanted Cary to stay right here where he was safe. The constructs already treated sighed and left, making room for a fresh wave of constructs, some as little as four and five year olds. Clark sat on the floor and cuddled them as he healed them continuing his story. Bruce looked amused but not at all surprised at how good Clark was with the kids.

"Lex killed 353 people while stealing the crystals and escaping," Clark said.

"No, it was 359," Lex interrupted, laughing at Clark's huff.

"They died afterwards, not at your hands," Clark disagreed, "so they don't count. He didn't know where to go, but somehow the Crystals directed him. He went north from Metropolis, being chased and hunted by Lionel's men. This was when the very first constructs were being created, but before they had been released from their training. I didn't have much of a link with them, as they were so few and weren't that bright. Lex was hunted by humans, making it easier for him to escape. He made it all the way to Smallville, hiding in the caves. I was already there, talking to the AI, Jor-El. Lex recognized me and hurried over, desperate for a place to hide the crystals that Lionel couldn't find."

Clark stood as he finished with the wave of little kids. They clustered at people's feet, several snuggling with Cary and Pete. Pete grinned and let one of the littlest ones sit in his lap. They seemed starved for love, which didn't surprise Pete at all. They were love-starved, having been treated as nothing but tools.

"I united the crystals," Clark said as he kept healing, "and created the Crystal of Knowledge. Lionel's soldiers were closing in, so I took the Crystal of Knowledge in my right hand and Lex in my left. We were transported to the Arctic where I created the Fortress out of the Crystal. We hid the Fortress very carefully, so that Lionel could never find it even using all the sensors on my spaceship. Unfortunately, putting it safe in the Arctic made it very hard to get to, especially for Lex."

Lex laughed, nodding agreement.

"We stayed there together for, what?" Clark paused, looking at Lex. "A year?"

"One year, one month, eleven days," Lex said with a grin.

"One year, one month, and eleven days," Clark continued as if he hadn't stopped telling his story. "I learned to use all of my powers, learned Kryptonian history and science, and most importantly, learned exactly what Lionel was. By the time we were done learning, Lionel had become very powerful, taking over the world, but we were ready to fight him, ready to save the world together."

"That's when we were created, isn't it?" the construct that Clark had just healed asked, eyes going wide at hearing his own voice.

"Yes it is," Clark said, voice sad while his face was happy. "I worried once I learned what I was that I wouldn't be able to have children. I'm an alien, and very different from humans. But when you were all created, then I knew it didn't matter anymore. I already had children, more children than anyone else. You're my beloved boys, my sons, each and every one of you. For years I haven't been able to save you individually, but now I'm going to be able to save your whole race."

"We'll rebuild the Fortress here in Gotham," Lex declared, "heal all of the constructs, and then take that bastard Lionel down. They can try and create a new army if they want, but we'll be ready for them and our army is stronger. It's made of love and hope and freedom."

Lex laughed as the constructs around him hugged him.

"Daddy's strong and brave," the littlest construct in Pete's lap commented. He was about five years old, or would be if he'd been human.

"Clark?" Pete asked.

"No, Daddy Lex," the boy said, blinking at him in surprise. "Papa Clark is Papa. Lex is Daddy."

"God, you guys are so cute!" Pete laughed, giving the boy a hug. "Anyone give you guys names yet, other than Cary?"

"Uh-uh!" the boy said, excited. He squirmed on Pete's lap, bouncing a little. "Can you give us names?"

"Sure," Pete said, grinning at him. "Let's call you…Gabriel, after the Archangel Gabriel. How's that for a name?"

Gabriel's mouth went into a perfect 'O', and his eyes went wide. He teared up and then hugged Pete tight enough to make him squawk.

"I love it!" Gabriel whispered into Pete's neck, trembling. "I get a name! I get a name!"

The other constructs looked at Pete, eyes full of hope.

"Good boy," Pete said, rubbing Gabriel's back and smiling at Cary's tear-stained face. "Let's get the rest of you, too. How about Adam for you, and Leonard for you, and David for you…"

The constructs that had been lined up around Clark started lining up with Pete, all waiting eagerly for their name. He gulped, realizing that he'd been delegated name responsibility. Clark beamed at him, as did Lex and Bruce. Well, he guessed there were worse things that he could be doing for the Resistance than naming the constructs. It wasn't until he heard Bruce quietly ask how many constructs there were than Pete thought this might be scut work.

"There are a bit over 71,000 of them," Clark said. "Finding names for them all is going to be a chore."

"Hey!" Pete said over the horde of construct's heads. "Somebody get me a bible, baby name book and a laptop with internet connection. I'm gonna need them!"

+++++

"Need a break from giving out names?" Clark called to Pete, grinning at him over the small horde of his children clustered around him.

"Um, yeah," Pete said, laughing at the grumbles and moans of disappointment. "I was just setting up a listing of which constructs there are and what names I've already given out so I don't double up."

"We could always be Adam 01, Adam 02, or something," one of the little ones said, tugging Pete's pant leg.

"Absolutely not!" Pete said firmly enough to make everyone grin. "That's no different than calling you CN-01, CN-02. You need proper, individual names. I said I'd do it and I will. May take a decade off of my life but I'll do it."

Clark laughed, picking up one of the littlest ones that Pete had named Adrian as Cary finished saving the list he was helping Pete make. In the last couple of hours, Cary had quite firmly adopted Pete, nearly as firmly as Clark had adopted his parents Martha and Jonathan. The wonderful part was that Pete seemed to have adopted Cary just as firmly.

"So what's up?" Pete asked, taking Cary's hand and picking up Liam, one of the tiniest ones. Liam was barely bigger than a toddler and seemed to have a fondness for sucking on his first two fingers.

"We're just about ready to create the new Fortress," Clark said, "and since you're doing so well with my kids, and understand them so well, I wanted you to be a part of it. That means that you'll have some limited ability to control the technology of the Fortress. I'd like you to be able to heal them and help them."

"M-me?" Pete asked, startled.

"Yes, you," Clark said, ruffling Liam's hair while smiling at Pete. "You've really hit it off with them. They trust you, Pete. They'd trust you to heal them, which is what I really want you to be able to do. We're in the middle of a war and they need their own doctor."

Pete blushed, mouth working as he tried to find something to say. Cary beamed and hugged him, snuggling him. That made Pete laugh, as did Liam's pat on his cheek, just like the pat that Clark had given Lex, Martha and Jonathan so long ago. He was picking up kids left and right.

"Well, if you really think I'd be a good choice," Pete said, smiling with tears shining in his eyes, "I'd be honored."

All of the constructs had made it to Gotham finally. The Australian constructs had had to steal a set of flyers, and make several runs, but thank goodness there had only been about two hundred of them in the country. Many more than that and Clark knew they would have chosen to suicide rather than hold up everyone else. He'd made it clear when he'd heard them pondering it that suicide was not an acceptable solution to the problem. The open field behind Bruce's manor was now packed with constructs carefully arranging the last few rescued crystals. Lex and Bruce were in the center of the new arrangement, along with Hope and Mercy.

It amused Clark to no end that Hope and Mercy had finally acted on their interest in Bruce. He'd spoken to them about it more than once after they defected from Lionel's forces to follow Lex. They were fiercely loyal to Lex personally, defending him in ways that even Clark couldn't, but they'd never felt any sexual interest in him or any other male. Meeting Bruce had apparently revised their opinions of the male sex enough that they considered him as an option, but they never acted on it until Lex had appeared to die. That had only taken years.

"We're ready?" Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow at Pete's inclusion in their group.

"Once Mercy and Hope leave," Clark declared, "yes, we will be. I have no problem having you here, Bruce, and Pete is going to be my children's doctor, but Hope and Mercy were altered by Zod's technology. I don't want them here, just on the off chance that they'll somehow infect the new Fortress."

"That's the only way you'd get us out of here," Mercy growled, giving Bruce a fierce kiss before heading back to the manor. Hope nodded agreement, giving Bruce a kiss, too.

Lex was chuckling, cuddling a different baby this time. He'd been cuddling one or another of the littlest constructs ever since they arrived. Bruce made a faint humph sound, the slightest tint of a blush coloring his cheeks for a second.

"You have no idea how much I like seeing them with you," Lex said with a grin at Bruce. "It's about damn time they stopped pining for you and acted on it."

"Excuse me?" Bruce was so shocked that he looked like Lex had hit him up back of the skull with a board.

"They've been interested in you ever since they joined the Resistance," Clark explained, grinning at Bruce's stare. "I've spoken to them about it many times."

"They never said anything!" Bruce growled, lips curling in a delighted smile. His eyes lit up, too, which made Clark grin. "I'm going to have to have a 'talk' with them later."

"Behind closed doors, please," Lex drawled, patting the baby's back.

Bruce growled at him, as much of an offended Alpha male as it was possible for him to be. Clark had to turn away to hide his snickers. Lex's snort was almost more than Clark's self control could deal with, especially in front of all of his children. The very thought of Lex with Hope and Mercy made him want to break out in belly laughs. Bruce clearly didn't realize what an exception he was for them.

"Cool your jets," Lex said to Bruce. "They've never been my lovers. You're the only male that they've ever looked at, as far as I can tell."

Clark looked back in time to see naked shock flit over Bruce's face, just before it was hidden behind the Bat's iron control. If it weren't for the distinct, if very faint, blush on his cheeks, you'd never know the conversation had ever happened.

"Let's get to work," Bruce declared, turning to Clark.

Clark set down Adrian, who went over to Lex and held out his arms for the baby he was holding. Lex made a little pouting noise, but gave Adrian the baby after a kiss on his downy head. Once the baby was heading over towards Pete, Cary and Liam, Lex was all business. He turned back into his lethal self, all sharp edges and intense focused attention.

"How do we do this?" Bruce asked, eyes flashing between Clark and Lex.

"Well, you don't have much to do," Clark said, "other than staying out of the way. Most of the effort will be mine. I'm going to collapse for a bit afterwards, because this is going to be quite tiring, but I'll be fine after a night's rest. Jor-El will be back once I'm done, so he can make sure that all the defenses are up and our area is protected."

"I'm surprised that Lionel hasn't attacked yet," Lex said, glancing at the sky. "I'd expected it over an hour ago."

"Agreed." Bruce's look at the sky was more than a glace, as if he was studying it for hidden attacks. Knowing Bruce, he probably was looking for cloaked flyers and missiles on the way.

"Something probably happened to slow him down a bit," Clark said with a shrug. "He is trying to clone Jason off, after all. Hopefully he's having trouble with that."

Clark moved to the very center of the crystal arrangement, to where the control panel would be. The crystal of knowledge still looked the same, rescued from the heart of the control panel what seemed like years ago now. It was shaped like the sigil of the House of El, glowing white and blue, prone to floating if allowed. Clark had carried it under his shirt or in his pants during the trip, only passing it over to Pete and Whitney at Pittsburgh because he knew he didn't dare let it be captured by Lionel's forces. He'd been so relieved to get it back. So much power was wrapped up in this little thing. Even deactivated, it was still a horrible danger to let run loose in the world.

"I'm going to start working," Clark said to Lex and Bruce, nodding to Pete where Cary held his hand on one side and Liam on the other. "The whole place is going to grow crystals, right under your feet, but you'll be safe, I promise. Don't run and don't try to help until after everything has stopped moving. The constructs are going to be affected too, as I'm going to set the Fortress to give them their full powers, fixing what was done to limit them. They'll be able to fly, have their full strength and speed, all the same gifts that I do, just a bit less than I do as they're only half Kryptonian."

"Be careful," Lex said, looking so worried about him.

"I'll be fine, just tired," Clark said, smiling at him. "Don't worry. Don't let Jor-El bully you, either. He's pretty pushy when I'm out cold."

Lex's snort of amused disgust made Clark's children and Bruce look at him in surprise. Clark turned back to the place the control panel would be. The last time he'd done this he'd let the crystal do it all, tossing it into the air and trusting it would work. He'd just hoped that the result would be a good one. He knew not to do that this time. He knew enough about his people's technology, the Fortress, and what he wanted to have happen to make the effort of guiding the creation. He couldn't control every bit of it, but he could make this new Fortress one more comfortable and helpful for the Resistance.

Clark focused, set the Crystal of Knowledge in the center of the control panel and let it loose. It activated and the Fortress started to be born around them. Clark's awareness of the outer world faded as he focused on directing the creation of the Fortress around him. He shaped it so that it would be easier for humans to get into and out of. He made it so that it would block the weather instead of letting the wind, rain and snow blow straight through. He directed the security system, allowing Pete, Lex and Bruce access to control specific areas, as well as letting the constructs access everything (within reason and after he'd approved them as adult and responsible enough).

Then he set the Fortress to healing the constructs, giving them full access to the abilities they should have had all along. That was the hard part, especially as Jor-El started waking up. Jor-El agreed with the plan but he was too busy rebooting to help, and in fact hindered Clark's efforts to a degree. They conflicted for a little, then started working together, and then Clark was panting with exhaustion as his children were starting to glow, their bodies being healed of all the genetic damage done to them by the designers. They would always be hybrids of Kryptonians and various animals, but they became far more Kryptonian and true individuals at last. Clark's last thought before passing out was that it was going to be much easier for Pete to match names to personalities now.

+++++

Genevieve smiled as her clones were removed from their chambers. They were kicking, screaming, fighting tooth and nail against the technicians, just as Genevieve wanted them to be. She had been a bad girl when she was young, one to fight and rail against what the world wanted of her. Of course, as a female genius in the sixteenth century Genevieve had had a lot to rail against.

She's used Countess Isobel to gather power, to find the Crystals of Power, but that had failed when Isobel had betrayed her. It had slowed Genevieve down, but she had managed to find ways to continue her search, and to extend her life. Finding the method to transfer her soul from her body to the body of one of her descendants had been one of her proudest moments.

Even with all Genevieve's power, she couldn't extend the lifespan of her body indefinitely. She could transfer to a younger female with the same bloodline, though. Over the centuries she'd made sure to have several daughters when she was young, encouraging them to have many daughters as well. There was always a nice pool of girls to choose from. The more, the better, as in general it took three or four attempts before she succeeded in transferring to her new body. The deaths of the unsuccessful girls generally similar enough to a heart attack that few questioned it.

"They're quite feisty," Lionel commented, petting Genevieve's arm as the girls were cleaned, put in simple slacks and tank tops, and then strapped into chairs to await her spells.

"Exactly as I wanted them," Genevieve said with a smirk. "The closer they are to my personality, the easier the transition is."

"With Jason's clones being so mild, I was quite surprised at their attitude," Lionel commented, chuckling as one of the girls bit a researcher hard enough to draw blood.

"He's been adjusted to be quite submissive," Genevieve replied. "He was a naughty boy when he was little. It took quite a bit of work to remold his personality into what he is. There's little left of the boy I bore."

"Are you ready to do this spell?" Lionel asked, rubbing a thumb along her chin.

Genevieve shrugged, not answering the question. She'd spent the last two hours supervising the taking of samples from Jason, spelling each of them so that the resulting clone would be as submissive to them as Jason was. She added spells to ensure that if Jason's current body were destroyed, he'd automatically be transferred to one of his clones. She was fond of the boy, of course, but the real reason for the spells was that he was the leader of their army. The chaos of having to replace him would simply not be acceptable. Their plans could not be interrupted, not at this stage of things.

"I'll be fine," Genevieve replied at last to Lionel's questioning look. "We don't have much time left, not since Lana escaped to the Resistance. I'm sure that Kal-El will restore the Fortress soon, and I want to be transferred to my new body before that happens. I won't risk him taking me over again."

"All right," Lionel said, nodding approval. "I trust that you'll let me know if there's anything I can do, my dear."

"Stay out of the way," Genevieve said, dimpling at him. "I don't want my precious partner hurt."

Forty-five minutes later, Genevieve was sweating, biting back curses, and grimly determined to regain Lana so that she could torture the girl to death, resurrect her, and then torture her to death again. She'd done something to the clones that made it nearly impossible for her to transfer over to them. Genevieve would get so far in the transfer and then it was like hitting a pink brick wall. She'd killed the first six clones and only had four left. She wasn't sure she'd be able to adjust the spell enough to allow for Lana's interference to allow her to transfer before she ran out of clones.

"Drat that girl, I should have beaten her harder," Genevieve said, wiping the sweat from her forehead.

"Problems?" Lionel asked from the corner where he'd been sitting.

"She's done something to them," Genevieve said, "but I think I've adjusted for it. One more try and then I'll take a break if it doesn't work."

Genevieve began the spell again, adjusting for the blockage that Lana had somehow set up. She hit the wall, blasted through it, and suddenly she was young, strapped to a chair and laughing with delight as her old body collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. Power swirled around her, letting her free herself from the restraints.

"Finally," Genevieve said, flipping her long hair over her shoulder as she stood. "I really will have to beat Lana to death once we recapture her. That girl made this entirely too difficult."

Lionel stood, coming to her side with that odd, alien expression in his eyes. He ran his finger down her cheek, a wicked smile blooming on his lips. She smiled back at him, letting every bit of her wickedness show. He was such a perfect match for her, the first really good match she'd found in all her centuries.

"Fascinating," Lionel said, "you found a way to simulate the Crystal of Water."

"Not quite," Genevieve said, nudging her former body with one toe. It flopped over on its side, completely passive. "There's nothing left of the original personality when I leave a body. I destroy the soul that was there before and replace it utterly with my own. The Crystal of Water transfers the soul. My method is better in that you don't have someone tracking you down to take their body back."

"Indeed," Lionel laughed, beaming at her.

"M-mother?" Jason gasped, coming into the room. He went pale, looking like he'd been stabbed to see his 'mother' lying on the floor that way.

"I'm right here, dear boy," Genevieve said to him, going and taking his hands. "I made the transfer so now I'm safe from Jor-El."

He studied her closely, hands shaking ever so slightly in hers. She let the power flare in her eyes, knowing he'd respond to it. Her face hadn't changed much, of course. She was younger, about twenty-five, but the body was a clone and thus a perfect physical match. Jason slowly nodded, a smile blooming.

"It is you!" Jason said, laughing as he hugged her. "Thank goodness, I was afraid something had happened to you again."

"No, nothing at all," Genevieve said, dimpling at him. "You do look better in that uniform, my dear. I'm glad that we got you a new body, too."

Lionel joined them, hands resting on Genevieve's shoulders possessively. She was about to say something snippy to him about it when her old body stiffened, the eyes glowing like flashlights were beaming out of her eyes.

"It looks like I made the transition just in time," Genevieve said with a smirk. "Kal-El appears to have resurrected the Fortress and Jor-El."

"Thank goodness!" Jason said, glaring at her former body as if it was Jor-El, which in fact it now was.

There was a whisper of something in the back of her mind and Genevieve frowned, bringing a hand to her temple. No. The three remaining clones stiffened, their wild struggles ceasing. One by one, their eyes lit up with the same light. No! Lionel was saying something, spinning her around so that she faced him, his hands hard and painful on her shoulders. Jason was yelling, pleading, eyes stricken and terrified. She couldn't hear what they were saying, couldn't hear any of it as the sound in the back of her head swelled. Oh God no, not again!

*How kind of you,* Jor-El said dryly in the back of Genevieve's head. *I thought having one Oracle was enough, but you gave me five. Now, open up like a Good Girl, my dear.*

The words 'Good Girl' were triggers, setting off a wave of twisted, immature magic that tasted of Lana, of Countess Isobel. Genevieve could hear Isobel's mad laughter as Jor-El took over her new body. There was nothing she could do. She tried to fight but good girls didn't fight, they didn't bite, they didn't scream, they didn't do any of the things that Genevieve so wanted to do. She knew it was Lana's doing, the pink wall that she'd fought her way through so that she could have this new body, but Genevieve couldn't see where Lana's magic ended and her own magic began, especially while Jor-El was infiltrating her mind, taking over her body, and turning her into something else entirely.

"Oh, that was close," Genevieve heard her voice saying. It sounded so convincing, so real, but Genevieve hadn't wanted to say that.

"Are you all right?" Jason asked, clutching her hand and kissing it fiercely.

"I'm fine, dear," Genevieve heard Jor-El say. "I wasn't sure that it would work, but it did. Everything is fine now. I'll cast spells to rid the clones and my old body of Jor-El's influence once I've rested a bit."

It was a nightmare, Genevieve thought, trapped inside of her new body while Jor-El pretended to be her. She was fairly sure that Jason bought it. The boy had been bright, but she'd destroyed his sense years ago, cultivating his obsession with her mercilessly. Lionel watched her much more carefully, but even he seemed to accept that she was all right after Jor-El used her magic to 'free' the clones from Jor-El, while killing her old body outright.

Jor-El played with Lionel, using her knowledge, her memories, her personality, her voice and her body. He fed them lies about managing to fight the invasion off, about sensing things about Jor-El, about the Fortress, about the constructs. He was going to sabotage her plans, destroy Lionel, and they didn't seem to realize it.

*No!* Genevieve screamed, trying to fight but blocked yet again by Lana's Good Girl magic.

*Do hush, my dear,* Jor-El said calmly. *I have work to do and you're interfering.*

The world disappeared, leaving Genevieve floating in a sea of pink magic that tasted of Lana, with nothing to listen to but the echoes of Isobel's manic laughter.

+++++

Jason thought that his new body was a huge improvement over his old one. The muscles were stronger, the reaction speed was faster, and he was a good bit bigger, which would give him an advantage when he went up against Kal-El again. He couldn't quite remember how he'd lost. He could remember flying there. He could remember the heat vision attack on the cannon and engines. He could remember jumping out of the flyer and then charging at Kal-El but after that it was all a blur. There were images of fighting his enemy, explosions, rainbows of colored light but not much more than that. He wished he could remember so that he could plan the next attack better.

"We dare not let the Fortress stand," Lionel was saying striding through the mansion with Jason following him. "I will not risk letting Jor-El take Genevieve again. Jason, I want you to lead an attack as soon as possible. The clone chambers are turning out clones of you at full production speed. We should have a full thousand of them in the next two hours, with another thousand every two hours after that. Take the current nine clones with you, and use them."

"Yes, sir!" Jason said, grateful to be allowed to get right back into battle. Mother hadn't been very pleased by that thought, but there was a war on, and with Jason feeling as good as he did, there was no reason for him to stay here and wait. "Thank you, sir!"

Lionel stopped, turned to Jason and took his shoulders in his hands. His eyes always seemed somehow wrong when he did this, but Jason ignored it. It didn't matter. Lionel was their leader, the leader of the world, and the person that his mother loved. He was the father that Jason's real father had never been. There wasn't anything that Jason wouldn't do for Lionel Luthor.

"I'm trusting you to defend us, Jason," Lionel said seriously. "You're our first, last and best line of defense against the Resistance and Kal-El. Do whatever you have to. I have complete faith in your ability to do this."

"Thank you, sir!" Jason snapped to attention, just barely stopped himself from saluting and nodded. He couldn't quite control the delighted grin, but Lionel didn't seem to mind it.

"I've called in all the flyers that we still have, a total of ten. They've been loaded with my newest bombs," Lionel said. "We have to strike quickly, before the element of surprise is lost. Take them, use them, and destroy everyone that stands in your way." Lionel gave him a quick pat on the shoulder and let him loose.

"I will, sir," Jason said, striding away quickly.

Jason found that his clones were like extensions of his body. They had just enough separate awareness to be able to dress, move, speak, and carry out limited actions on their own, but once his mind touched theirs, they became like extra sets of hands and eyes. He pulled at them, bringing them with him by mental command from the staging room at the base of the mansion. He didn't smile at the terrified expressions of the regular soldiers as he and his clones strode as one to the new flyers. Their steps rang against the pavement in perfect unison, their arms swung in perfect time. They were one, not many, and that was how it should be. Their perfection clearly terrified the regular humans surround him, but Jason didn't respond to them at all. They would be learning the new order of things soon enough. Right now, he had a mission to carry out.

+++++

"Whoa," Whitney breathed, staring out the window.

There had been something that felt kind of like an earthquake, prompting both Ollie and Whit to get up. Ollie had immediately collapsed, too weak from the blood loss and the remaining blood clogging his lungs to stand on his own. Whit supported Ollie with a shoulder under his arm so that they could both go to the window and see what was going on.

There was a new Fortress on the back lawn, huge, glowingly white and blue, with crystals that seemed somehow different from the old Fortress. It wasn't as shockingly alien, Whitney thought. It seemed more accessible, more like a structure than a pile of crystals. There seemed to be stairs leading into it, and windows in places. He swore that he could see balconies in one spot, though that seemed a bit absurd.

The constructs were pouring out of the Fortress, cheering. Whit had forgotten that Kal-El was going to restore their voices. He'd gotten used to them being silent, so it was bizarre to hear them shouting and cheering. It was even more bizarre when they started flying. The little ones didn't fly, the ones that looked like kids, but the adult ones did, chasing and racing each other in mid-air, doing loops and flips and rolls.

"I'll be god-damned," Ollie breathed, eyes wide when Whit looked over at him. "Scarlet, let's get down there and find out what the hell is going on."

"You should go straight back to bed, Robin," Whitney said, glaring at him. "You're barely vertical right now."

"Granted," Ollie said, making a face, "but I'm going to die of curiosity if I don't find out what happened."

Whit recognized the expression on Ollie face and rolled his eyes, giving up. There was no stopping him when he got in one of these moods. It didn't take long for them to find out what happened. As soon as they were down the stairs and outside, they were mobbed by constructs babbling in joy about being restored. Pete was there, carrying one of the kids, followed by Cary.

"Hey, dude," Pete called, grinning as he came to their sides. "You missed all the good stuff."

"So what the hell happened?" Whit asked, pointing at the constructs over head.

"Kal-El restored their powers as he rebuilt the Fortress," Pete said with a little shrug. "He's kind of passed out right now, but according to Lex and Jor-El, the AI in the Fortress, he's going to be fine. He'll sleep for a few hours and then wake up as good as new."

"What have you been up to?" Whit asked, taking Ollie's elbow as he started to sway.

"Naming the constructs," Pete signed, looking utterly put-upon. "Gave one of the little ones a name and then sort of volunteered to give the rest of them names. All 71,000 of them."

Whitney started snickering, getting a fierce glare from Pete. Ollie's legs tried to give out, so Whit hauled him over to one of the benches that lined the walkway. Ollie grumbled, but went, not strong enough to resist Whitney right now. Pete blinked at Ollie's condition, looking rather worried. He didn't let it stop him from sniping at Whit, though.

"Not like you're accomplishing much, dude," Pete huffed.

"I'm taking care of an old friend and team-mate," Whitney growled back at him. They both tensed for one of their regular battles. Whit was sort of surprised that he missed his battles with Pete. They hadn't had a good fight in days, and it was kind of like missing a familiar old thing in the middle of an all-new place.

"Ladies," Ollie said, rolling his eyes, "let's not get in a cat fight, shall we? There are kids around."

Cary cocked his head, his one remaining green eye puzzled. The little one in Pete's arms looked equally puzzled. Whitney glared at Ollie, offended. Pete looked like he wanted to strangle Ollie, and the only reason he didn't was the kid in his arms and the terrible sound of Ollie's breath as he wheezed.

"Um, Pete-person?" Cary asked, "Why did he call you and the Whitney-person 'ladies'? You're not female."

"That's to make them stop fighting and behave," Ollie said with a grin. "And I wouldn't suggest trying it yourself, as the only reason I didn't get punched is I'm too sick to be thumped."

"Damn straight," Pete grumbled. "Anyway, I'm getting back to work on the name thing. Find something to keep yourselves busy, why don't you?"

Pete stomped off, Cary shrugging and following him after a quick wave goodbye. Ollie chuckled, shaking his head at Whit fondly.

"You two are practically married, you know?" Ollie said with a sly grin.

"Don't even fucking go there!" Whitney growled, glaring at him. "Believe me, gorgeous as he is, there's no way he's ever letting me touch. Too straight to entertain the possibility."

They both looked up worried as the constructs flying overhead suddenly stopped, staring off into the west. Ollie tried to stand but his legs didn't hold him, dropping him back down to the bench. Seven of the older constructs swooped down, landing in front of Whit and Ollie, faces as still and grim as if they'd still been pretending to be nothing but flesh robots.

"Whitney," the lead one said, "we need your help. You're good at sneaky things, both of you, and Papa Clark trusts you. He's out cold, and likely to stay that way for several hours. Bruce, Hope, Mercy and Daddy Lex are all busy inside the Fortress, dealing with Jor-El."

"He's being a jerk," a second construct on the right said, rolling his eyes.

"He's always a jerk," a third one on the left said, snorting and crossing his arms on his chest. "That's practically his job."

"Jason Teague is coming," the lead construct said, making them all go grim again. "He's got nine clones with him, and they're all in flyers that have been loaded up with bombs—"

"Zod-Lionel's ultra-special-highly-destructive—" the right construct said as if he'd been the one talking.

"Blow-the-entire-coast-into-oblivion bombs—" the left construct continued. It was kind of like listening to twins finishing each other's sentences, Whitney thought, except with a heck of a lot more than two people.

"And we'd love to stop him, but with Jor-El being a pill about using the Fortress' defenses, we're kind of stuck on how to do it," the lead construct finished. "So we were hoping that the remaining Merry Men could give us pointers on how to be highly creative and destructive."

"You guys knew about that, huh?" Ollie said, smiling at them.

"Oh sure," the right construct said, shrugging. "It was always kind of obvious to us, but we can talk to each other telepathically, so you can't really hide anything from us."

Whit took a deep breath, looked at the Fortress, then back at the Manor. None of the proper leaders of the Resistance were around. If they had been, Whit assumed that the constructs would have gone to them. He shrugged. Well, someone had to handle this. He looked at Ollie who shrugged, too, though his smile had turned into his Robin Hood devil-may-care wicked grin. Whit chuckled, shaking his head. This was just the sort of thing Ollie loved doing.

"All right," Whit said, pointing to the seven constructs and then picking three big, strong ones out in the sky and pointing at them, "you ten, you're the squad leaders."

The three that he'd picked out swooped down, smiling at him.

"Each of you, pick ten other extra strong, extra fast, extra powerful adult constructs," Whit said. They all nodded almost instantly, and other constructs started swooping in to line up behind their leader. "Now, pick the strongest one out of your squad, and that one becomes leader of the next squad."

The chosen leaders stepped forward almost instantly again, making Whit grin. It was way too easy getting these guys organized, but after all their training and experience being used for the military, it made sense that they'd be good at it.

"Now, the second set of squad leaders choose nine other constructs," Whit said. "This time, choose for ones that will work extra well as a team, who will be able to think and act like one. There's got to be individual variations in you guys, so go for the best in cooperation and group thought with the squad leaders."

This time, the chosen constructs took a little longer to come and line up. There was a bit of shifting around, switching between squads but inside of a minute, Whit had twenty squads of ten constructs each. He nodded proudly, grinning at them.

"All right," Whit said, "this is what you're going to do. I need someone to stay here and be a relay to tell me what you guys are doing. The first set of squads will go on attack and distraction duty. You're going to fly in, try and stop the flyers, slow them down, and damage them. Make it seem like you're trying to make Jason and his clones turn around and go back to Metropolis. If it's still really Jason, then he's going to think in straight lines, and that means he's going to be determined to break through your guys and get here."

The first set of squads nodded, completely serious and ready to go right now. Ollie was studying Whit carefully, but looked content to let Whit call the shots on this mission. He kept rubbing his chest, and Whit could hear his breath wheezing hard again.

"Now, the second set of constructs are going to be the real attack teams," Whit said, grinning at them. "I'm sure that they've upped the protective shields on the flyers. I figure with ten of you together, focusing your heat vision in the exact same spot, you should be able to punch right through the shields and destroy the flyers. Hopefully you'll be able to destroy the bombs, too, long before they get here, and preferably without having them go off."

"We can do that!" one of the second squad leaders said, beaming. "That should be pretty easy."

"I want you to fly as high as you can go," Whit told them, "so that you're hopefully less detectable and Jason won't be able to shoot at you. The first squads handle attack, and the second squads handle the destruction of the flyers. If Jason's clones are like independent people, try and work more like a team to counter the independence. If they're more like extensions of him, then be more random, more individual. Don't match their behavior with the same behavior, always counter it with it's opposite. Jason's not creative, and is very controlling, so they'll probably be like slaves to him. I'd say that you would get to be creative and act wild as you distract them. Think that will work?"

"Should," the lead construct who'd started this all. "We need to get going. He's already a third of the way here."

"Well then, get going!" Whit said, waving at them. "Go do!"

They all shot into the sky, disappearing before Whit had a chance to react. They were a hell of a lot faster than he'd expected. Another, younger looking construct came over, looking off to the west. He nodded to Ollie and turned to Whitney.

"I'm your contact with them," he said, sighing. "Wish I was strong enough to go play, too."

"You're more important than that," Whit said, patting his shoulder. "You're the one that will let us know if we need to pull in more teams and get Bruce off his butt in there. Got a name yet?"

"No, not yet," the construct sighed, looking sad. "I'm CN-11307."

"No, you're not," Ollie said firmly, "you're Tuck from now on. So tell us what's happening, Tuck!"

Tuck's eyes got huge and he started grinning at them both. He nodded, face going still as he focused on his brothers heading off to battle Jason and his clones.

+++++

*I got a NAME!* Tuck cried to his brothers, getting laughter back from them. *I get to be Tuck!*

*Cool,* CN-12098 said, focusing on flying in formation with his squad towards Jason's lead flyer. *I wonder how long it will take for all of us to get names? They put a lot more thought into it than I expected them to.*

*They're flying in such precise formation,* CN-5604 said, studying the ten flyers. *Whitney must be right. They're slaves to his will, way more than we've ever been slaved to each other or Papa Clark.*

All of their perceptions were speeding up as they neared the battle. The X-ray vision of one of each of the squads showed that Jason and his clones were clearly speeding up as well, but in their case, their reaction speed exceeded the speed at which the flyers' controls could respond. Their machinery limited them. The constructs weren't similarly limited.

The Jasons did just as Whitney had predicted. They used their weapons, their speed, and their mass to try and break through the attacking squads of constructs. None of them looked for other attacking squads, either above or below. They couldn't seem to maneuver independently. What the lead Jason did, the other flyers did, flying like they were bolted to his side. It made it much easier to attack and defend against the Jasons. Sometimes, the clone Jasons would fire as if they had enemies approaching them in the exact same place as the lead Jason did.

*Damn, they're so inflexible,* CN-12098 said, snickering as a bolt went wide of where he actually was. *He has no clue of how to use them, does he?*

*Well, they are a brand new group mind,* Tuck said, relaying what was happening to Whitney and Ollie. *They didn't grow up with the group mind experience.*

*True,* CN-5604 said. *I wonder if it would be better to leave them this way or disrupt the group mind effect. I'll bet there's something Jor-El could do if he'd stop getting in pissing matches with Daddy Lex and Bruce.*

They all laughed about that. Jor-El was a continual problem for Papa Clark and Daddy Lex. They all knew about Papa Clark's struggles with the AI, though it seemed a lot more grumpy and hard to deal with since the Fortress had been restored than it used to be. Maybe Jor-El didn't like its new location? The second squads were finally in position, having gotten well and truly linked together mentally and then choosing their targets.

*Take out the lead Jason's flyer first,* Tuck told them, *and then the others within a couple of seconds after that. Do your level best not to set off the bombs. You're too close to Gotham right now and Jor-El's being stubborn about putting up shields over really large stretches of territory.*

*Idiot computer,* CN-12098 grumbled.

*Get ready to flee,* CN-6799 warned the others. *We're destroying the flyers in three…two…one…Now!*

Coordinated blasts of heat vision cut through the flyers like they were made of butter, not the strongest metals that Zod-Lionel could create with human technology. The lead Jason was cut in half, and there was a flash of energy. They all saw one of the other Jason's suddenly change its behavior, becoming the lead Jason. It was cut in half, then the next, and the next, and the next, until all ten of the Jason clones had been destroyed. Each time the lead Jason was destroyed, another clone changed behavior to become the lead. Once the last clone was destroyed, there was another flash, and every one of them was sure it was the lead Jason's soul being transferred to a new clone somewhere else. Without the Jason's flying them, the flyers started to nosedive out of the air.

*Save the bombs or dispose of them?* CN-5604 asked.

*Dispose,* Tuck commanded. *You know Papa Clark would never let them be used. Throw them into space and then blow them up. That should reduce the fallout and prevent any damage to humanity.*

*Could throw them into the sun,* CN-6799 suggested as they all dove in and caught the ten flyers before they could crash.

*Take too long,* CN-12098 disagreed. *That'd take minutes and we don't dare let Zod-Lionel have the chance to do something with them. Who knows what sorts of secret resources he has with Papa Clark's spaceship at his disposal. It's better to just destroy the bombs and be done with it.*

They all agreed with that, so the ten damaged flyers were flung into space. The second squads followed, making sure that they were well outside of the atmosphere and down rotation from the planet before exploding the bombs. The explosions were huge. Jor-El hadn't been exaggerating when he said that they would have completely eliminated the East Coast. The destruction would have been big enough to mimic a super-volcano like the one under Yellowstone Park, devastating the whole world for decades to come.

*Going to be a fair amount of fallout,* CN-6799 commented, frowning.

*Yeah, but at least the planet's rotation around the sun is taking us away from it,* Tuck said with a sigh.

*Should have destroyed them on the far side of the moon,* CN-12098 said, disappointed in himself. *The moon would have shielded the world.*

*Hey, go easy on yourself,* Tuck said to him with a metaphorical hug through their group mind. *This is the first time we've ever done something on our own. Of course we're going to make mistakes.*

*It's not like Whitney or Ollie could have given us that pointer,* CN-5604 commented. *They can't think fast enough to keep up with events, and they can't fly like this. We did well. We stopped the Jasons. We destroyed the bombs. We saved the Earth. Let's not get all angsty like Papa Clark, just because we goofed a little and we lost eight of our brothers.*

CN-12098 laughed, flying over to hug CN-5604 as they swooped back down on Gotham. The Fortress shown like a beacon designed especially for them. They could see it in colors that humans didn't see, and it winked a welcoming signal at them as they returned. Jor-El might not be willing to expend much power to protect humanity, but it seemed to approve of the constructs doing it. They all smiled, very linked and close mentally to each other at that moment. They had done well, and maybe now Jason wouldn't be reborn right away.

*No such luck, I'm afraid,* Gabriel called in his little boy voice from the Fortress. *Jor-El said that he's already revived back at Zod-Lionel's mansion. The Jasons are being born at a rate of 1000 every two hours, not every two days.*

*Shit,* every construct from the youngest babies to the oldest said at once, their group mind overwhelming their individuality for a moment. *Well, I guess we have a lot more work to do.*

+++++

Jason roared and hit the table sitting in front of him hard enough to make it bounce but not break. Damn it, they'd killed him again! There were a few dozen of his clones sitting at tables around him, but that hardly mattered. He'd been killed yet again. He'd failed Lionel, he'd failed his mother, and he'd failed himself. They had to have destroyed his bombs. There was no other possibility. Jason stood, making one of the attendants who was directing and clothing the clones splutter.

"What are you doing?" the attendant said, pushing at Jason. "Sit down."

"Where is Lionel?" Jason growled, glaring at him. "I am Jason Teague and I have to report in."

"B-but y-you're a clone!" the little man gasped, eyes going wide at Jason.

"Not anymore I'm not," Jason said, shoving the man aside.

The other clones got out of his way, reacting to his power over them. The attendants all stared. Jason strode away, surprised to find himself in one of the crèches outside of Los Angles. He'd assumed that he was in the basement of the mansion. It didn't matter. He needed to find Lionel and he needed to report in. Getting a proper uniform took a few minutes. There were no more functional flyers, so Jason had to run back to the mansion inside of Metropolis. That took far too much longer, almost fifteen minutes with all the checkpoints and destruction between the two cities. Lionel was in a meeting with the other military commanders when Jason strode in.

"You failed?" Lionel said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, sir," Jason said, instantly ashamed of himself. "Their actions were nothing like what I expected. They appear far more capable of independent action than I expected. It won't happen again."

"No, it won't," Lionel said, dismissing everyone else. "Come with me. I believe I know a solution to the problem."

He led the way into the basement, taking Jason to a part of the building that he'd never been allowed in before. As far as Jason knew, no one but Lionel was allowed here. A huge door blocked their way, but Lionel set his hand against the pad and it opened for them. Inside was a vault-like room with another door that looked even tougher. Getting through that one required Lionel to submit to a retina scan. They went down a long, sterile staircase, descending several stories under the earth.

"What is this place?" Jason asked as they reached the bottom and yet another door.

"My bunker," Lionel said. "No one, not even Genevieve has ever gone in here and come out again, Jason. Despite your recent failures, you have proven yourself. You are reliable, hardworking, and the perfect heir. I think I know why you failed in your battle against the constructs. Were you aware there are different sorts of group minds?"

"No sir," Jason said, glowing from the compliment but confused by the term and question. "What's a group mind?"

"That's something that generations of Kryptonians have debated without answering the question," Lionel said with a wry grin. "But basically, it's a situation where multiple individuals are able to think and work in true unison, normally through a form of telepathy. You have what I would term an Overmind. Your will overwhelms the will of the Jason clones. No matter which body you are in, you are the lead, and you are able to switch bodies as needed."

"That's…quite accurate to what I've experienced so far," Jason said thoughtfully as they went through the last door.

Inside was a lab, full of equipment, a clone chamber and a small grey spaceship that glowed and hovered, looking at Jason and Lionel. It truly seemed to see Jason, though he had no idea how. The sensation was decidedly creepy, despite his emotional modifications.

"What the constructs have," Lionel continued, going to the spaceship and making it rotate so the inner chamber was facing towards them, "appears to be a cooperative group mind. Each individual cooperates and contributes to the collective, but none is overwhelmed or controlled by the others. This means that they have maximum independence, but they can still act in concert. What we need to do is modify your Overmind so that you can mimic this state without loosing your control over the clones."

"Is that possible?" Jason asked, desperately unwilling to take another step closer to the glowing writing slowly circling in the center of the ship. He had little capacity for fear left, and what fear he felt was weak, but this was making that fear rise up and hiss like a startled snake.

"Quite possible," Lionel said, turning back to Jason with a cold smile. "Come here and place your hand inside the ship."

"Yes, sir," Jason said, swallowing hard.

Taking the dozen steps to the ship was the second hardest thing he'd ever done. Raising his arm and putting his hand inside of it was the hardest thing by far. Jason didn't feel anything at first, but then there was a rush of pain that tore through his hand, raced up his arm, and shot straight into his brain. He could hear things, see things, knew things that he shouldn't be able to know. He felt another mind against his, dark and malevolent. A hand touched his cheek and his head turned, eyes locking on Lionel's face.

"I am Zod," Lionel said, voice deeper than it should have been. "Give yourself to me, Jason. Be one of me. I will make sure that you and your clones are able to do what you need to do to take this world."

Jason turned back to the spaceship, seeing a small crystal within it that he hadn't noticed before. This was the true Zod, he realized, the one that controlled Lionel in the same way that Jason controlled the clones. Lionel was a puppet, not the mastermind. Zod wore his skin in the same way that Jason wore the clone's skin.

*I can make you strong enough to defeat Kal-El,* Zod said into his mind. *Let me in. We will defeat him, destroy his fortress, and the world shall be ours. There are other worlds in need of liberation, Jason. With your clones and my direction, we can succeed in taking them all.*

*What happens to my mother?* Jason asked, quite aware of Zod infiltrating his body and mind. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation or unfamiliar. His mother had done something similar to him many times over the years.

*She is my mate, the mother of my children,* Zod said, smiling with Lionel's face. *She shall bear a new race of Kryptonians that will be as strong as you, as fast as you, as beautiful as you. They shall be your servants, the ones who carry out your orders. You are my heir, the one who shall take the universe in my name. To be effective in combating the construct's group mind, you are not like Lionel, who is my body. You shall be connected to me, but independent of me. This is what you shall be able to do with the clones, mimicking a true group mind while being an Overmind. It shall give you more strength and power than they can fight.*

*Then I'll do it,* Jason said, opening himself utterly to Zod.

+++++

"Enough arguing," Whitney shouted as he stomped into the Fortress.

He'd had one of the other constructs carry Ollie back to bed despite his objections. He really wasn't doing well. He needed his rest, even if someone had to sit on him, which the construct had been instructed to do if necessary. Then Whitney had taken Tuck and headed straight for the Fortress.

"We're busy," Bruce said, glaring daggers of ice at him.

"So were we," Whitney snarled, glaring right back at him. "Lionel sent Jason with ten clones and ten super-bombs. He would have taken out the entire eastern coast if he'd gotten through. We stopped him, lost eight constructs out of twenty, but we did stop him and destroyed the flyers and the bombs. We don't have time for this idiotic fighting. Something has to be done to stop Lionel before he does something really desperate."

The Fortress pulsed, making Whitney start. Tuck put a hand on his shoulder, calming him down.

"You are not in charge, Whitney Fordman," Jor-El said. "You do not give the orders here."

"No, I sure as hell don't," Whitney said, snorting, "or I'd tell you to shut the fuck up and listen to your grandkids for once. Damn it, you might have survived that attack but humanity would have been destroyed!"

"What happens to humanity is not my concern," Jor-El intoned, managing to sound huffy and offended, while also sounding faintly defensive.

"It is your concern," Lex growled, glaring at the control panel. "If this world dies, you die with it, and you know it."

"The world is more durable than you think," Jor-El said. "Humanity may die, but the world will go on."

Whitney groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. He turned to Tuck who was wide-eyed and a little afraid.

"Tuck," Whitney said, "we need to get through to him and I think you guys are the only ones who can do it. Kal-El's asleep, Lex isn't being listened to, and you're the only other Kryptonians around."

"We can try," Tuck said hesitantly, "but we're no more impressive to him than Papa Clark is."

"Not if you're all one," Whit said, putting a hand on the kid's shoulder. "When you're one person with many bodies, you're really impressive, Tuck. Get everyone together mentally, call everyone in here if you have to. We've got to get Jor-El to listen to you."

"All right," Tuck said, face going black.

Constructs started pouring into the Fortress, quickly filling it. They filled every open space, floated in mid-air, packed the open areas. Lex and Bruce both looked at Whitney and Tuck, not sure what was going on.

"Jor-El," the constructs said in perfect unison, "you will listen to us. We helped to create you. You have to obey our commands."

There was a long pause. The lights of the Fortress flashed, and Whitney took Tuck's arm, worried. What if this wasn't such a hot idea? He didn't want any of the kids killed because they pissed off their grandfather. He bit his lip. There wasn't a lot else they could do though. They needed Jor-El and the Fortress if they were going to stop Lionel and Jason.

"What are your orders?" Jor-El said finally.

"Yes!" Whitney cheered.

Lex and Bruce stared at the console and then at Whitney and the constructs. Mercy and Hope both looked like they'd like to gut him but that didn't matter. Tuck turned to Whitney and all the other constructs looked at him at the same time.

"Well, you guys are the ones who know what this place can do, not me," Whitney said, shrugging ruefully. He hadn't planned that far ahead when he'd stormed in here. "We need some way to protect the innocent, a way to attack Lionel, a way to cripple Jason and his clones, a way to stop the clone production before they get too many of them, and we need it all fast."

Tuck nodded slowly, the wheels obviously turning behind his eyes.

"What did you do?" Lex demanded, still cuddling one of the babies who looked just as intent as the other constructs.

"Well, they do this think-as-one-thing," Whitney said with a shrug, "and I thought that if they got a bunch or them together or all of them, maybe then they'd be able to get through to Jor-El in a way that the individuals couldn't. Power of the group, you know?"

The little construct close to the console started doing things with it, making pieces rise and other pieces fall. Lights started flashing and the Fortress seemed to flex somehow.

"Shields have been established over all Resistance territories," Jor-El intoned, sounding annoyed about it. "Power reserves have dropped to 75%."

"Where is Zod?" the little construct asked for all of them.

"Unknown," Jor-El said. "Lionel is not interacting with Genevieve as he used to. I believe he suspects that I have taken her over."

"Then we need to act quickly," Bruce said. "We'll have to mass our forces."

"You need to split your forces," Whitney said. "You've got two targets that have to be taken at the same time: Lionel himself and the construct chambers."

"Lionel will be easy," Bruce said, snorted.

"No, he won't," Tuck disagreed. "Lionel is Zod. He has the same powers that Papa Clark and we have."

"Send teams of constructs after Lionel," Whitney said. "It works really well. We just did it. Send human and meta teams against the construct chambers since they've got that stuff that hurts the constructs and Kal-El."

"They're kids," Bruce growled, glaring at Whitney.

"They're warriors who have been trained to fight and die since they were born," Whitney disagreed, glaring at him. They needed to get moving on this and damn if he'd let Bruce's scruples about the constructs stop them from winning. The constructs wanted to help, so let them!

+++++

Clark woke to the sound of preparations for battle and lots of arguing. He frowned, yawned and sat up, looking around. He'd been taken to a room in the Fortress that was supposed to double as a bedroom. He was on a bed, anyway, though the rest of the room bore little resemblance to what he'd call a bedroom. Gabriel was there, sitting on the foot of the bed, looking utterly frustrated.

"What's wrong?" Clark asked, opening his arms and getting a bundle of frustrated little boy.

"How can we win a war when everyone fights all the time?" Gabriel asked, nearly in tears from frustration.

"We just get them to calm down and realize they're on the same side," Clark said, kissing his forehead and hugging him. "Show me what happened while I was asleep."

Gabriel showed him mentally what had happened, from the attack against Jason, to the fallout already raining down, to Whitney helping the constructs convince Jor-El to act, to the current arguments between Bruce and Whitney about the role of the constructs in the coming battle.

"That's why I didn't want them to know about you guys," Clark sighed, hugging Gabriel. "I knew that it would affect how they used you. Well, let's go yell at them so we can get going. There's not much time left."

"Thank you, Papa Clark," Gabriel said gratefully. "None of us are very old, in real terms, so Bruce doesn't listen to us, not even the adult ones. He just doesn't accept that we're able to make choices for ourselves."

"I know," Clark said, pulling on his jacket and heading out with Gabriel's hand in his.

It was chaos as always, with everyone scurrying around trying to get things going. The only difference this time was that Whitney was there, stirring the pot with the same fervor he always used for fighting with Pete. Lex was still cuddling babies, but he was glaring at Whit at the same time. Oddly, Mercy and Hope seemed to have sided with Whit, and were advocating using the constructs as warriors.

"They're children," Bruce growled at them, getting offended looks from every construct surrounding them.

"They're going," Clark interrupted, cutting everyone one. "Bruce, we can't win without them. That's why I worked so hard to save them. We need them. I cannot win against Lionel without their help. It's impossible. I need them and they're going."

"But…" Lex protested weakly, shutting up as he saw the calm determination in Clark's eyes.

"I know," Clark said, going to his side and kissing him tenderly. "They're actually children, just a few years old for the oldest ones, but it doesn't matter. We need them or we'll loose the war. They have to be warriors for a little while longer and then they get to be normal people, just like everyone else."

Bruce grumbled wordlessly, lips thin as he crossed his arms over his chest. Whitney looked relieved that he'd woken up. The constructs all moved to cluster around their Papa Clark, mental voices all thanking him for backing them up, letting them help.

"Just because you get to go," Clark said with a wry smile, "doesn't mean that I'm not going to be a wreck afterwards, grieving for the ones who die. That's how it works with me."

"We know that, Papa Clark," Tuck said, nodding. "That's part of why we love you so much. You know every one of us. You take care of us, even when you can't touch us individually. We'll all do our best not to be hurt, but it is a war. Only the grown up ones are going. Anyone who can't fly or who doesn't have his full powers isn't going to go. We already decided on that."

"Good," Clark said, caressing his cheek. "I'm glad that you're starting to realize that your individual lives have meaning, whether you have your names or not. So, let's plan this assault out so that we can get on with saving the world from Lionel, Jason and Zod."

+++++

Metropolis was quiet, dead quiet, the sort of quiet you got when every living thing had fled and nothing was left but the wind scraping a few stray scraps of paper against broken glass. Lex hated this quiet. He'd loved Metropolis growing up. He'd loved it even after his father took it over and turned it into something the beautiful city was never supposed to be. What it had become now that he'd finally returned with the constructs and the Resistance fighters was worse than a corpse. It was a mummy of the city it had been and Lex decided that he would fix it.

Right after his father was dead, preferably at Lex's hand, though he knew that wasn't going to happen. Lex's task wasn't to kill Lionel. It was to shut down the clone chambers in Metropolis, stopping production of more Jason-clones. Bruce and Chloe had Smallville with Mercy and Hope, along with a small army of constructs. Diana and several dozen Themyscirians would be shutting down Denver's clone chambers. AC and most of the metas in the Resistance had gone to the big clone center in LA, teleported by the Fortress that was remarkably compliant when ordered by both Clark and the constructs in group-mind mode.

"There," one of the constructs said, pointing at the big building next to his father's armor-plated mansion. "They're in that building, in the basement."

"Tough to get into," Lex said, sighing with annoyance. "Will the weapons the Fortress gave us be enough?"

"Oh yeah!" the construct said with a wicked grin that looked odd on a face that was so much like Clark's. "Trust me, you give the word and we'll get in. Of course, we'll probably take out a few blocks of territory behind the building, but there's no one in the buildings back there. We already checked that with our hearing and X-ray vision."

Lex raised an eyebrow, smirking at him. The construct was one of the barely adult ones, but he seemed a lot more experienced and violent than the others around Lex. He'd automatically taken the lead of the constructs in Lex's team, even though there were several others who were clearly years older. This one was the leader, no matter what his age was.

"Name?"

"Don't have one yet," the construct sighed, looking sad.

"Then your name is Alex unless that name's been given already," Lex said, patting his shoulder. "You sound far too much like me on a violence kick."

"Really?" Alex said, beaming. "It hasn't been taken. Can I really have that name?"

"It's yours," Lex said, chuckling at his delight. "Now let's do this."

The constructs all tensed, faces going uniform in their blankness. Lex tensed with them, finding it nearly as easy to work with them as it was to work with Clark, who he wasn't going to think about. Their attack was the signal for Clark to begin his attack, but Lex wasn't going there. He had to focus on stopping Jason's clones. He couldn't afford to think about anything else or he'd be incapable of doing what he needed to.

"Ready," Lex said, pulling his new and improved crystal-gun, "set, go!"

Lex fired on the building, taking out most of the windows in the first story, but not destroying it by a long shot. Jor-El had warned them that their targets were heavily armored, but Lex was surprised to see that it was that armored. He'd barely dented the thing. Lex waved to Alex to give it a try with his newly created weapon.

Alex grinned and flourished the crystal-bazooka he'd been carrying over his back. He and three others aimed their weapons just as a small flood of Jason-clones flowed out of the building. The blast of light and power that erupted from their weapons made Lex's little gun look like a popgun. The building disappeared in a fountain of debris the size of pennies, everything from the ground up reduced to fine rubble. The Jason-clones moved too fast to have been killed by it, charging at Lex's team.

Lex's team attacked them, slapping the disruptor crystals that Jor-El and Whitney of all people had created onto their chests. The clones screamed and clawed at their heads, blood pouring from their noses. It was easy for the constructs to kill them after they'd been sabotaged, though quite surreal for Lex. Dozens of Clarks attacked dozens of Jasons, fighting and dying around him in a strange high-speed ballet that he dodged through, running for the building.

He had to trust Alex and his team of bodyguards to keep him safe. There was no way that he'd be able to protect himself against the clones. He was too slow and too weak. They had to protect him. It was easy to trust them because they shared Clark's face and golden heart. They reached the building after what seemed like an eternity to Lex. It must have seemed like even longer to Alex, given that he could move so much quicker.

"They're in the basement," Alex said, talking a little too fast, showing that he was responding at super speed.

"Good," Lex said. "Then hopefully they won't be able to flee with the clone chambers."

A huge heavy security door that had withstood the crystal-bazookas blocked the stairs down into the basement but Lex knew that he could get through. He recognized the door, recognized how it was constructed. He smirked, leading the way there. He reached out for the door and gasped as one of the constructs caught him and threw him back, just before he was fried in a blast of energy that sent the boy to his knees in a scream of agony.

"No!" Lex yelled, trying to get to him but held back by Alex as the current of electricity went through the fallen construct seeming to last forever and ever.

"He'll live," Alex said in Lex's ear. "He's hurt but he'll live, Daddy. Don't worry."

"That's why I was supposed to do it!" Lex growled, relaxing enough to let Alex hold him. They got him every time they called him 'Daddy.' "He was supposed to let me be first."

"Papa Clark would be mad if we let you get hurt like that," Alex laughed in his ear, hugging him from behind. "All right, it should be okay now."

The energy spluttered and then stopped, letting the construct collapse to the ground that used to be a sub-floor for the building. He was covered with scorch marks and a patch of his hair was gone. The ground around him was blackened and smoking. One of the younger constructs that couldn't fly properly zipped in, picking him up and carrying him away so fast that they disappeared into thin air. It looked like Pete's medical evacuation plan was working properly, anyway.

"His name," Lex said to Alex not letting himself cry for the fallen boy since he was going to live, "his name is Atlas, the one who holds up the world."

"I told him and he knows that myth," Alex said, eyes lighting up. "He's grinning, too. Likes it, since he doesn't think he's very bright compared to the rest of us. He's a bit stronger, too."

Lex shook his head, smiling weakly at that. This time when he approached the door no one stopped him. The battery for the weapon was drained after all. Lex checked the door and security pad and nodded, smirking. His father really was an idiot most of the time, no matter how smart he thought he was or how smart Zod thought he was. Lex still made a distinction between the two, even though he knew it was a false one. His father was long gone and only Zod remained inside the shell that had been his father.

"Break the hinges," Lex commanded, getting out of Alex's way. "Once you break the hinges, the deadbolt will engage, then we cut through the deadbolt. Once that's done the door will be easy to pull out of the frame."

"That'll work?" Alex asked surprised.

"Yes," Lex said, nodding.

It did work, surprisingly quickly. The special metals weren't totally invulnerable like the metals that the Fortress was able to create. That pleased Lex. At least Zod hadn't been able to replicate everything that he wanted from Krypton had yet. They got the door open and Lex was spun off to the side as another wave of Jason-clones charged out, acting far too individual. Zod must have done something to let the clones be more like the constructs, Lex realized, not caring as the clones were summarily killed by the constructs. A huge explosion happened up in the air, making Lex start cursing. Clark had begun his battle with Zod. They needed to get those clone chambers shut down, damn it!

He charged down the now-clear stairs with Alex and three other constructs in his team. Alex made sure that Lex was safe as more Jasons attacked and were dealt with. Several blasts from the other construct's bazookas took the roof off of the basement, clearing the other constructs outside to charge in to help. No pinch points survived long when there was a bazooka around, Lex laughed, adrenaline making him enjoy every instant of the destruction. His gun took out the interior walls blocking them from the construct chambers. The body parts and blood on the floor didn't bother him yet. It wouldn't bother him until tomorrow or the next day, and then only when he discussed what happened with Clark. It was just the way he was, Lex knew, though he always regretted his lack of a conscience at times like this.

There weren't twenty clone chambers in the basement Lex realized as the smoke went away after a blast of super breath from Alex. There was something like a hundred of them, with new Jason-clones visibly growing inside of them. Lex growled, almost sickened by the sight of them. What sort of monster created things like this? He didn't bother answering the question, not even in his own mind. All he had to do was look around the world to see the answer.

"Alex, Rojas, Cloud, Axel," Lex snapped, pointing to each of them in turn and getting delighted grins as he gave each of them names, "you're not allowed to die, but we need to blow this place to kingdom come."

They exchanged looks, communicating telepathically and then nodded as one. They reconfigured their bazookas at super speed, making Lex back off a step. He didn't know what they were doing but it didn't really matter. He knew that they knew what the crystals could do and that was what counted. The human attendants of the clone chambers had already been killed when Lex blasted the walls down, so that wasn't a problem anymore. He shivered, seeing the Jason-clones in the chambers waking up as they neared looking like teenagers. They needed to act before this batch of clones was ready.

"Start running, Daddy," Alex said, setting his reconfigured crystals at the base of one bank of clone chambers.

"What?"

"Run!" Alex snapped. "We're blowing up this whole area. Get as far as you can and we'll get you the rest of the way."

Lex turned and ran for everything he was worth. He took the stairs to the surface three at a time. There were dead Jasons littering the ground but no one else, not even dead constructs. He realized that Alex must have told the other constructs to clear out and ran harder, heart pounding with the thought of how powerful this explosion was going to be if everyone was gone. He could hear the battle overhead and hoped that Clark was all right. He hoped that Alex, Rojas, Cloud and Axel would survive. He hoped that he would survive.

The adrenaline had sped Lex's senses to the point that he felt like he was running through mud because his body wouldn't move fast enough to match the speed he knew he needed. Alex scooped him up mid-step. They flew away, Lex and the four constructs still not flying fast enough as far as Lex was concerned. The farther away they were, the better!

When the construct chamber went up, it went up like a nuclear bomb. The blast that swept them away was so huge that his mind simply couldn't register it. There were no true parallels in his mind for it. They were hit by a blast wave that was like having a wall hit them at a hundred miles an hour, except that they were going a hundred miles an hour and the wall must have been going more like a thousand miles an hour. That tumbled them mid-air, Alex retaining his grip on Lex despite it. Then they were hit by the debris wave and went tumbling out of the sky. Rojas, Cloud and Axel had somehow joined with Alex to form a living protective shell around Lex as they were driven from the sky by the power of the expanding and then contracting explosion as it mushroom clouded into the sky.

They hit the ground and tumbled, Lex held secure inside of their arms and legs. He knew he was screaming but couldn't hear his own voice over the rumble of the explosion and the ringing in his ears. It seemed like forever before they came to rest in a tangle of bodies, Lex ever in the center, protected against any real damage.

"Alex?" Lex rasped, ears still ringing but healing quickly. "Rojas? Cloud? Axel!"

They groaned, shifting and letting him free. He checked each of them, incredibly grateful for his healing, for their protection of him, and for the fact that he was alive. It wasn't until he'd determined that none of them were truly hurt—only battered by what they'd gone through—that he was able to look around. Other constructs were arriving to take them all back to Gotham and the Fortress. Lex stood, staring back at Metropolis, astonished by what they'd done.

Metropolis was gone. Well, not totally gone as he could see the suburb prison camps for the civilians in the distance, but the rest of the city was gone. Most of the center of the city was flattened, including the mansion. The city had been devastated by the blast. A crater at least a mile across lurked where the city heart had used to be. Lex whistled hoarsely, helping Alex to his feet. If the majority of the human population hadn't already been moved to secure bunkers at the far edges of the city, Lex would be sickened at the potential loss of life. As it was, he didn't think that the civilians had been harmed. It would just be military people in the center of the city, and the 'government' that Zod used to enforce his mad rule. No loss there.

"You know," Lex said almost conversationally if you ignored the raw, awe-struck tone of his voice, "I think you just beat my record for most destruction in one attack."

Alex laughed, grinning at Lex. Lex stiffened before Alex could reply. There was something flashing in the center of the mushroom cloud that was slowly rising towards the stratosphere. His breath caught as he realized what it had to be. Clark was still battling Zod with his team of constructs. It wasn't over yet. Zod still lived.

+++++

Clark hovered at 40,000 feet, watching with 6,000 of his sons as Lex's group went after the clone chambers. He was doing his very best not to eavesdrop on them (lest he make himself too nervous), but Alex's squeal of joy at getting Lex's name was impossible to miss, making everyone laugh.

*Focus,* Clark told Alex, laughing mentally.

*But Daddy gave me his name!!!* Alex squealed again, though he was focusing on what he had to do now.

The other attacks in LA and Denver were going flawlessly. Chloe was wreaking huge amounts of havoc in Smallville, already having gotten Bruce to snap at her to back off on using all her ammunition right away. Giving her one of Lex's crystal-guns had not been a wise idea, but they could always try and take it back after the attacks were over. They were facing stronger resistance in Smallville than LA and Denver, but Bruce's team seemed able to deal with it. Clark's attention snapped back to his own body as Lex fired on the bunker containing the clone chambers. Instead of blowing the building up, he only blew out some windows.

"Talk about armored," Harry said, eyes wide. He was one of the older constructs, looking just the same age as Clark. He was also one of the best leaders, able to interface groups of constructs like no one other than Clark.

"No kidding," Clark agreed. "Zod's quite serious about keeping his little soldier-generators safe, I guess."

They saw how serious as Alex and his team fired their bazookas at the building. While the upper part of the building disappeared in a rain of debris, the basement with the clone chambers was safe underneath serious shielding and reinforcement. Clark spotted two blurs exiting the mansion as the debris was still flying into the air and his awareness speeded up to match them. Lionel-Zod led the way into the air, followed by Jason, who should not have been able to fly unless he had been made part of Zod as well.

*One hundred Jason-clones coming in from the south!* Harry called, all of his army speeding up their awareness with Clark. *They're flying!*

*Be ready then,* Clark said calmly. *Zod must have finally infected more people—hopefully its only these Jason's clones.*

They didn't wait for the Zods to attack or start talking. Clark and his sons dove to attack first. Zod being Zod, he'd probably want to pontificate for a while before beginning the actual battle but they weren't here to cater to his whims. This had to be ended quickly or the Fortress was going to have to power down for a good long time, possibly years. The shields Jor-El had placed over the Resistance territories were draining its power a lot faster than Clark had expected.

Lionel and Jason shared identical expressions of rage, confirming that Zod had taken Jason. The incoming Jason clones had the same expressions of rage, though the Jasons on the ground didn't. He frowned as time sped up even more. Apparently Zod hadn't infected all of the Jasons. Maybe it took physical contact?

The idle curiosity disappeared as the battle was joined. Clark's impact with Lionel and Harry's impact with the lead Jason was so powerful that it was like an explosion in mid-air. The impact sound waves rolled away from them, an almost-visible distortion in the air given how fast they were all moving. It was quickly amplified by nearly a hundred more impacts as his sons met the incoming Jason clones, turning the thunderclap of noise into a true explosion of sound. It all happened in less than a second but it felt more like thirty seconds to Clark.

Lionel started to mouth something at Clark but he didn't wait to hear it. He didn't care what Lionel had to say. Clark punched him as hard as he could, putting his whole body into the blow. Lionel's head snapped back but his hand was already swinging at Clark, hitting him in the stomach with equal force. They began pounding each other to death, using every power, every ounce of strength, and every dirty trick they knew.

*The crystals don't work on these Jasons!* one of the constructs said, gasping as he fought to keep from being overwhelmed by his Jason.

*Teamwork!* Harry snapped, reminding them to gang up on their targets, not hang back and wait for a turn. *Don't give them a fair chance, guys!*

Suddenly, Clark had four constructs helping him beat Lionel to death, and Harry had six to help him with the lead Jason. Lionel screamed in outrage, and Jason was mouthing profanities when his face wasn't being pounded on. Clark desperately wished that there were some sort of weapon that would have let them avoid this beating, but there wasn't anything that would allow them to kill Zod properly. He could be stabbed with a Kryptonian knife but that wouldn't guarantee anything. The way Kryptonian bodies worked, only total cremation was 100% certain. Besides, he could get the knife away from them and attack them just as easily.

Metropolis erupted beneath them, going up in an explosion that stopped nearly all the combat high above. Clark stared down, looking desperately for Lex and finding him by honing in on Alex as they tumbled through the air in a ball. He didn't have time to be relieved as Lionel took his momentary distraction and hammered his fist into Clark's nose, breaking it.

Clark growled, returning to the battle with a lighter heart despite the damage. Lionel was furious, which meant that the clone chambers had to be truly destroyed. The other centers in Metropolis, Denver and LA had been destroyed already, so there would be no more Jasons. Lionel's government was gone. His palace and everything he'd gathered over the last couple of decades in power was gone. Genevieve/Jor-El and her clones had escaped to Gotham under their own power the instant Lionel and Jason had flown away. They'd destroyed everything that Lionel had built so far.

He continued to battle Lionel with his sons, smiling grimly as Jason after Jason fell, beaten to death by his avenging sons. The constructs used their combined heat vision to cremate them, ensuring that not a single body would be left behind. Given how much Jason had been altered, it was always possible that he would revive the way that Clark did with sufficient sunlight and time. No one wanted to take that risk.

The mushroom cloud from the Metropolis explosion rose into the air, enveloping them all in darkness. Lionel didn't need to breathe any more than Clark or his sons did, so that didn't make a difference to them. X-ray vision let them see in the middle of the darkness, so the battle continued. Clark started counting off the Jasons as they died, praying that they'd destroy Lionel-Zod before too many of his sons died in battle.

Fifty-seven Jasons left out of the initial one hundred. Nine constructs had died so far. Fourteen others had been injured so badly they couldn't continue to fight. Lionel was still breathing, still fighting. He was a lot tougher than Clark had expected. He'd obviously altered himself far more than Clark or Jor-El had thought.

Thirty-two Jasons left, eleven dead constructs, and twenty-nine too injured to go on. Clark gasped as his ribs broke under a particularly nasty blow from Lionel. Damn, how long was it going to take to kill the bastard? He was doing far worse than Clark or the constructs, but still—he should have succumbed to his injuries by now.

Twenty-nine Jasons, fourteen dead, thirty-two injured, and this time it was Harry landing a killing blow on the lead Jason. The lead Jason switched to another one but the moment between the lead's death and the new lead being born was enough to allow his sons to kill seventeen of the clones. Lionel screamed in fury, appearing to realize he was doomed to death the way things were going.

He shot straight up into space and Clark shot after him, closely followed by a group of twenty of his strongest, fastest sons. The others continued killing the remaining Jasons, the count quickly falling from twelve, to nine, to six, to three, then finally to none. Every single Jason clone in the world was dead.

Only Lionel-Zod remained, flying so fast that he was causing sonic booms and leaving a meteor trail from the friction of the atmosphere against his body. Clark followed, his mind so tightly linked with this twenty accompanying sons that they were virtually one person, thoughts flowing in perfect unison. They stayed tight on Zod's tail, the only Zod left now, thank goodness, leaving a bigger meteor trail because there were more of them.

Across the Mid-West in less than three seconds, arcing over Gotham, Zod looked like he was trying to pick up speed but couldn't quite go any faster. Clark smiled grimly as the Fortress sent a blast of energy skyward, almost managing to nail Zod square in his chest. He saw it coming at the last instant and dodged, only loosing his left arm.

Zod dove crazily low over the Atlantic, sending up sprays of water several hundred feet into the air. It didn't distract Clark and his sons, following him at a higher elevation. High-speed zigzags through England and then France just let them close the gap, making Zod snarl back at them, Lionel's face transformed into something truly alien as Zod snarled his hatred at Clark.

The Alps were like a slalom race, with Zod hugging the surface and Clark and his sons following right on his heels. Blood was starting to seep out of the stump of Zod's arm as the cauterization effect wore off. Zod clamped his fingers around the stump, trying to stem the flow. As they rocketed down Italy and out over the Mediterranean, Harry let Clark know that they'd sent groups of constructs ahead of them, trying to lay out a trap for Zod.

They entered the trap over the Serengeti, and it snapped shut on Zod. Ten focused groups of constructs hit him at once with their heat vision, stopping him mid-air and letting Clark's group attack with their heat vision as well. Zod screamed, his body burning away under their assault.

Clark felt ill watching Zod struggle and try to escape, but Harry had set up an excellent trap. Zod couldn't go in any direction, up, down, left, right, forward, back, or any other direction in the 360 degrees surrounding him without getting closer to one or more groups of constructs and their heat vision. More were arriving at every instant, until the sky over the Serengeti was blazing with the heat of Zod's cremation.

In the end, it was all of them and none of them who killed Zod. Every construct that could fly was there, blasting him down to nothing but ash that rained down on the Serengeti. Clark panted, feeling the same shock that his sons did when there was nothing left.

"It's over?" Harry asked, flying closer to Clark who was struggling to stay in the air now that the battle was over and his injuries were making themselves know.

"It's over," Clark panted, smiling at he was caught by his sons. "Let's go home. We have to make sure everyone else is okay."

"And you need to rest, Papa Clark!" Alex said, grinning at him cockily despite the huge bruise marking the side of his face. "No arguments out of you. Daddy's going nuts wondering what happened to you, and not even baby-cuddling is helping."

Clark laughed, wincing at the way it made his broken ribs feel as they started setting on their own. He let his sons carry him home to Gotham, beaming to see Lex, Bruce, Chloe, Whitney, Pete, Ollie, Diana and all of his friends waiting for him outside of the Fortress. They looked tense, worried, but the constructs who couldn't fly all had the same jubilant grin that Clark did. It was finally over. Zod was dead and the infected spaceship had to have been destroyed in the blast that killed Metropolis. Nothing could have survived that.

"It's over," Clark said as his sons set him down in front of Lex. "Zod is dead. We can start rebuilding the world now."

Lex carefully passed the baby construct to Diana who beamed at getting to cuddle the boy. He touched Clark's cheek with a shaking hand, studying his eyes as if to read the whole battle telepathically. Clark chuckled and pulled Lex close, mindful of the injures he could see on Lex's rapidly healing body. Lex groaned and trembled in his arms, burying his face in Clark's neck for a long moment while everyone erupted in celebration around them.

"I was worried about you," Lex nearly whispered, trusting Clark to hear his words no matter how quiet they were.

"I almost had a heart attack when Metropolis went up and you weren't safe," Clark replied, resting his forehead against Lex's forehead. "Lionel broke my nose while I was distracted."

"So that's where the blood came from," Lex said, grinning. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up and then we can celebrate."

Clark grinned back, leaning close to rub his nose against Lex's. His face was covered with blood so a kiss right now would be pretty gross. He really wanted to get clean before they had a proper congratulations kiss. By the time he was clean he'd probably be fully healed. His body still healed better than the constructs' bodies.

"Do we get to do what you always promised?" Clark asked teasingly.

"What?" Lex asked, raising an eyebrow in mock confusion while a firestorm of lust flared up in his eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Clark."

Clark snickered as Lex took his hand and led him inside of the mansion. They'd made all sorts of wild plans for after Zod was gone in the time they'd been trapped in the Fortress in the Arctic: plans of how to save the world, how to rebuild it, how to help the constructs and let them be people. Every single plan had been nonsense and none of it had happened. They'd promised each other a million things in the heat of passion or in the dark nights after nightmares, if only the other one would survive the end of the world.

Their suite was just as they left it, a mess of weapons, ammunition and scattered clothes. Clark would clean it up later, after they were clean, healed, and fed, after they'd burned off the remaining adrenaline from the battles. Lex pushed him into the bathroom and laughed as Clark pulled him along. They slowly stripped each other, taking their time and being gentle. They were both covered with wounds, though as always Clark was healing more quickly than Lex was. Even his broken ribs were knitting back together, letting him breathe properly.

The shower they shared was full of laughter, moans of passion, flinches as bruises were brushed and ultimately quite noisy for both of them. They didn't care if the whole world heard them making love in the shower so neither of them tried to be quiet. They dried each other off while kissing urgently, stumbling into the bedroom and falling onto the bed together for another round. Clark didn't think he'd ever get enough of Lex's wonderful pale body. Lex kept murmuring between moans and shudders that Clark was perfect, the most perfect thing he'd ever seen.

After the second round they cuddled together, telling each other what had happened. As always, Clark could hear the constructs in his head, as well as the noise of the rest of the world celebrating the end of Lionel Luthor's reign. There didn't seem to be a part of the world that wasn't alive with celebration, from pole to pole.

As Lex's fingers slowly stroked Clark back into hardness for a third round, Clark smiled at him wickedly.

"So this time do we get to do it?" Clark asked.

"I don't think we have any chocolate sauce here, Clark," Lex said and then laughed as Clark used super-speed to zip out for a bottle from the kitchen and then back into bed. "Okay, so we have the sauce but it's really cold."

Clark heated it with a careful blast of heat vision, making Lex groan and flop back on the bed. Despite the groan, he was grinning and much harder than he had been before.

"Please?" Clark asked, wagging the bottle at Lex.

"All right, all right," Lex sighed, grabbing his discarded towel and spreading it over the bed. "But if you get a stomach ache from that stuff, don't blame me!"

"You know I won't," Clark purred, spreading a little of the sauce over Lex's stomach. "Let me enjoy my two favorite things, please."

"You're not the one with a thing for chocolate sauce," Lex gasped as Clark started licking it off of his belly.

"No, but I have a thing for you, and making you make that noise," Clark said, laughing throatily as Lex keened. "I'll eat oceans of chocolate for you."

"Promise?" Lex gasped, fingers fisting in Clark's hair.  
"I promise."

+++++

_((And now in the tradition of an after-the-credits-of-the-movie epilogue, we have the true ending of the story. *grin*))_

The mile-deep bunker was full of dust and scattered bits of concrete broken off of the ceiling overhead. The heavy hybrid steel door that should have been able to bear any sort of punishment without breaking was bent under the weight of tons of collapsed rock, bowing slightly inward, with gravel and rocks spilling through into the bunker. The long tables full of advanced equipment and crystals were dark, the power having gone out to nearly everything in the room. Only two things glowed in that quiet, hidden, buried room.

The first thing that glowed was a small spaceship, just big enough to hold a baby or toddler. Its central hollow was full of spinning writing, and a small crystal rested within, pulsing slightly. If anyone had been there to see it, they would have thought that it was looking at the other side of the room, at the only other glowing object.

The other object was a tall metal-and-glass machine that held green goop. The goop was glowing ever so slightly, making the rest of the room take on a sickly green tinge. It pulsed in time with the pulse of the crystal in the spaceship. As the pulsing continued, a small pale thing began to grow in the center of the goop. Only after weeks did its shape begin to take on a form that was recognizable. Even while it was smaller than a woman's palm, its tiny hands clenched into fists and its little legs kicked in apparent anger. Eventually, after months of slow, patient growth, a child's hand smacked against the glass and a boy's face swam close to the glass, letting angry eyes glare out at the bunker. Those eyes seemed to promise vengeance against all.

"Kal-El!" the boy mouthed, full of hatred.

He drifted back into the goop to continue his slow maturation into the instrument of vengeance.

The End


End file.
